


The Yobbo

by TheTetrarch



Series: The Wapanjara Chronicles [4]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Family Drama, Fun, Hurt/Comfort, Leverage AU, Slight Eliot whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2020-12-27 02:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21110978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTetrarch/pseuds/TheTetrarch
Summary: Christmas has come to Wapanjara, and Eliot, Lizzie and the rest of the Leverage team return to Australia to celebrate with their new-found family. Campdrafting and rodeo is part of the landscape in the Northern Territory, and Wapanjara’s people head to Tennant Creek to compete in the annual competitions, from buckjumping to baking. A surprise new arrival causes mayhem, Effie hunts a saboteur out to beat her famous lamingtons and Eliot comes face to face with The Yobbo.





	1. Upon the Road to Pullyerleg

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: All chapter headings are from the wonderfully evocative (and often fantastical) poems of C.J. Dennis (1876-1938)

* * *

** LEVERAGE INTERNATIONAL HQ, PORTLAND, OREGON, USA – 10 days before Christmas **

“SHE’S _WHAT??_” Eliot yelled as he stood in his office at Leverage HQ, his cell ‘phone held to one ear.

Lizzie, busily packing her suitcase in the main office, was so startled by Eliot’s bellow she dropped Cec on his head. Picking up the plushy kangaroo toy, she hugged him in apology and peered at Eliot through the open door of his office.

“How the _hell_ did _that_ happen??” the hitter continued angrily, running fingers through his hair and making it stand up in long tufts. His brows were drawn down in a fearsome scowl, and, Lizzie thought, he looked absolutely _furious_.

“Wassup, baby-girl?” Hardison asked Lizzie as he wandered out of his room, alerted by Eliot’s verbal explosion.

Eliot’s head snapped up as he heard Hardison’s comment, and he stalked to his door and slammed it shut.

“I think Eliot’s upset about something!” Lizzie hissed, trying to be quiet.

Hardison cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“Yeah, well … what’s new?” he said, and was about to return to doing his own packing when Sophie emerged from behind the kitchen island, cup of green tea in hand.

“What on earth is he irate about now?” she sighed, taking a sip of her tea.

Hardison shrugged.

“No idea.” He watched as Eliot, one hand on his hip as he ranted at whoever-it-was on the other end of the line, began to pace up and down in front of his desk. Now _that_ was new. Eliot _never_ paced. “Man, is he _pissed_,” he added a little superfluously.

Eliot had dropped his voice so that they now only heard a word or two now and again … words like ‘_Dammit_, Jo!!’ and ‘how the _hell??_’ and ‘_she ain’t fit enough!!_’, all of which rang alarm bells in the other members of his team.

They continued to watch through the line of windows of Eliot’s office, and by the time the telephone conversation had finished and Eliot sat on the edge of his desk doing his best to calm down, Nate and Parker had joined Sophie, Hardison and Lizzie in the main office.

Eliot wiped a hand down his face, composed himself to the best of his ability, and sighed.

“Shit!” he rasped. _Oh well_. He would have to face them, and he knew Hardison for one would make his life hell. This was _not_ going to be pretty.

He took a deep breath, opened the door and headed out of his office to deal with the fall-out from his telephone call.

* * *

The wide, toothy grin on Hardison’s face made Eliot want to shatter every one of his perfect white teeth and jam them down his wise-ass neck, followed by breaking every _single damn bone_ in Hardison’s friggin’ body.

“You … you’re joshin’ us, right?” Hardison said with a sense of awe in his voice. “It’s a joke, Eliot. Seriously. Jo’s just messin’ with you!”

Eliot, standing in front of his team and clenching and unclenching his fists, curled his lip.

“_Dammit_, Hardison!” he rasped, and Lizzie’s eyes widened a little at the helpless ire in her guardian and best friend. “No … no, Jo ain’t messin’ with me.”

Nate raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips.

“Well … now there’s a surprise!” he said with a touch of humour in his voice. He turned and looked at Sophie, who sat beside him on the couch, her cup of tea now forgotten. “Isn’t it a surprise, Sophie?”

Sophie, looking a little bemused, nodded slowly.

“Yes … yes it is. It’s … not what I expected.”

Parker was sitting cross-legged on one of the chairs, obviously somewhat puzzled. She opened her mouth, on the point of asking a question, but Lizzie, who had taken Eliot’s rather hesitant and only-partly-explained news with a little confusion, suddenly realised the implications.

“You mean … you mean Gertie’s going to have a _baby??_”

Eliot winced. 

“Yeah … that’s about it,” he grumbled unhappily.

Hardison’s grin impossibly grew even wider.

“Oh, _man!_” he crowed, delighted. “Eliot’s gonna be a grandpappy!!”

Eliot’s fists began to lift, knuckles white with tension.

“I swear to _God_, Hardison, I’m gonna –“

“But _how??_” Parker asked, her face screwed up in confusion. “Gertie’s the only camel at Wapanjara! I mean … there’re no boy camels, and Charlie told me there hadn’t been any other camels living in the area for decades!”

Lizzie suddenly blinked, clicked into gear, shrieked with delight and flung her seven-year-old frame at Eliot, who let out an ‘oof!’ as she hit his midsection and wrapped her arms around his waist. He had to relax his fists to catch hold of her and he could feel more than hear the babble of questions being yelled at his stomach. He gently pried Lizzie off, but she didn’t stop.

“ – and when is she going to have the baby?? Will we be home when she has it?? Will I be able to watch?? Can I help?? Oh, oh, and do camels have babies the same way as horses?? Eliot, can I –“

Eliot looked at his friends and was faced with a row of grinning faces, all enjoying the hell out of watching a hitter who was far, _far_ outside his comfort zone and being questioned breathlessly by the little girl he loved and for whom he would give his life.

He finally let out a groaned sigh. _Dammit_.

“If you’re quiet, ‘Lizbeth Grace, I’ll tell you what Jo told me, okay?”

Lizzie’s eyes became even rounder as Eliot settled on a kitchen stool and she flopped down at his feet, head propped on her hands, eager to hear what Eliot had to say.

“She, uh …” he began, not really knowing where to start, “well, camels carry their calves about fifteen months, so …”

“Good Lord!” Sophie was quickly doing the maths, “you mean she was pregnant when we had all of that hoo-hah with Hadan*?”

Eliot rolled a shoulder, discomfited.

“Seems about right. Well … Soapy thought she was lookin’ a little fat and put it down to good food and not enough exercise, but when he looked … um … _underneath_ … “ Eliot made a vague gesture that looked as though he was trying to cup a football, “she, ah … she’s bagged up.”

Lizzie twisted around and nodded knowingly.

“That means her udder’s all big and her titties are swollen,” she said sagely.

“Titties??” Sophie asked, faintly horrified.

Lizzie gave out a noisy sigh because her family obviously knew _nothing_ about the reproductive processes of animals. “_Yes_, Mama, that’s where the baby’s milk comes from. And her bum-hole gets all floppy and baggy so that the baby has room to get out when it’s born.”

“_Bum-hole??_” Sophie questioned the room in general, completely out of her depth.

Nate raised questioning eyebrows at Eliot, who glared back and hitched an expressive eyebrow of his own.

“Don’t even think about it, Nate,” he rumbled. “Nothin’ to do with me.”

Lizzie stared at her family in disbelief.

“What? Didn’t you know that?? Jacko told me all about it when the foals were born.”

Nate knew then that Jacko Smith, boss stockman of Wapanjara Cattle Station, was a dead man.

Eliot, doing his best to ignore Lizzie’s snort of disgust at her family’s obvious lack of understanding of animal births, shifted uncomfortably before continuing.

“She’s due any week now. Charlie thinks maybe Christmas.”

“_Christmas??_” Lizzie whooped, jiggling on the spot. “D’you think she’ll have the baby when we’re _home???_”

Eliot nodded, still obviously dumbfounded by the news.

“But … but _how??_” Parker asked again, her face in an intense frown.

The hitter scratched his head thoughtfully.

“Over a year ago Charlie and the crew were in the north paddock on a muster an’ took Gertie with ‘em to carry supplies. Sometime during the night she wandered off, but she was back by mornin’ an’ Charlie didn’t think anythin’ of it at the time. It wasn’t until Soapy checked her a couple of days ago an’ found she was in the, ah … the family way that Jacko said he’d found what was left of an ol’ wild bull camel by the fence in the north paddock, all chewed up by dingoes. The critter managed to snap a few wires and got through into the good grass. So … it stands to reason the bull was the daddy.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm the roiling in his guts. When he got back to Wapanjara he and Gertie were going to have a long, _long_ talk.

“Well now …” Sophie put her tea cup on the side table and doing her best to get over her daughter’s somewhat graphic description of diagnosing camel pregnancies, smiled a little too brightly at Eliot, “I think congratulations are in order!”

Parker squeaked with delight.

“A Christmas baby!!” She flailed her arms for a second before continuing. “D’you think Santa will know?”

A groan of frustration rang through the room from everyone but Lizzie, who let out a ‘meep!’ of excitement, and she shuffled over to sit next to Parker, whose own elfin features were alight with wonder.

“Of course he will!” she said, “Santa knows _everything!!_”

Parker’s passion for Christmas was only outweighed by Lizzie’s, and the pair of them usually planned the festivities with almost military precision. But this year, for the first time, they were all heading for Wapanjara, the lonely cattle station in Australia’s remote Northern Territory, a place which they all now regarded as home.

Parker had been disappointed initially when she discovered Christmas in Australia was during the intense heat of midsummer, but her sadness at not having snow in which to frolic and which she could use to bombard a snarly Eliot with snowballs was averted when she discovered that they would be having a celebratory barbecue by the great billabong in the South Paddock.

And now, to add to the festivities, there would be a new baby for them all to spoil.

Nate grinned at Eliot, whose face had settled into woe-filled worry.

“C’mon man,” he said as he settled back on the couch and stretched, “It’ll be fine, you’ll see! And then you’ll have two camels instead of one!”

Eliot let out a soft grunt of annoyance and his brow furrowed.

“It ain’t as easy as that, Nate!” he rasped and glared at the team, his Oklahoma accent becoming stronger by the second. “Gertie’s never been a momma –“

“You can tell because her titties are like little buttons,” Lizzie said by way of explanation, blithely unaware of Sophie’s cringe of discomfort.

“ – _and_,” Eliot continued, trying hard to ignore Lizzie’s explanation and mentally deciding he was going to visit some extreme Eliot Spencer retribution on Jacko, “she’s older … it could kill her havin’ the baby! Or … or she could get damaged inside, or the baby could come the wrong way or –“

“I’m an older mother,” Sophie interjected, her brown eyes dangerously calm. “I think the phrase was ‘elderly _primigravida_’, if I remember correctly,” she added acidly. “But it worked out just perfectly if you remember, Eliot!”

Eliot remembered alright. Sophie going into labour in Lucille during a thunderstorm and Eliot delivering a squalling Lizzie in the middle of a traffic jam, while the rest of the team had a collective panic attack. It had been the most terrifying moment of his life. Being tortured by an Iraqi warlord somewhere on the outskirts of Mosul had been _nothing_ compared to that.

“Yeah, well, you had high blood pressure an’ a high chance of eclampsia an’ … an’ …” he began to bluster as he contemplated a technically very-middle-aged camel having her first calf and all of the accompanying issues that went with it. “Gertie … she’s not done this before an’ … hell, she might not even deal with bein’ a momma camel an’ –“

Hardison let out a huffy sound, shaking his head.

“She’s been lookin’ out for _your_ sorry ass for years, El, so a baby camel ain’t gonna be _any_ kind of problem!” he scoffed, and Eliot grumbled helplessly.

“Well, she … “ the hitter continued unhappily, “ … she’s not showing too much, Jo says, an’ she thinks the baby’s gonna be small.” His face was so uncharacteristically woebegone the entire team could see how stressed he was about the idea of his beloved Gertie being in any kind of danger. “It might not even be strong enough to stand, or … or it could have brain damage or … or … “ Eliot finally ran out of steam as he contemplated absolutely everything he could think of that could possibly go wrong. For a man who wasn’t frightened of anything or anyone and would protect his family with his life, Lizzie knew that children and animals were his Achilles heel, and Gertie had saved his life more than once. The little girl scrambled towards her best friend and she gave him one of her all-encompassing hugs, standing behind him and resting her head in the hollow of his neck.

“But _we’ll_ be there, Eliot,” she whispered, “and we’ll all help, and I know Gertie will be a really, _really_ good Mama. Grandpa Soapy and Grandma Jo and Charlie will know what to do if something goes wrong, and Kip and me … we’ll help too. I promise!”

She could feel the rigid muscles in the hitter’s frame under the shirt layers, and she could sense the tiniest of tremors underlying the tension. Eliot leaned his head on his god-daughter’s and sighed.

“I know,” he murmured, the words only Lizzie’s to hear, “I know, ‘Lizbeth Grace. It’s just … she’s had a tough life an’ I don’t want any more hassle for her is all.” He sighed. “She almost died savin’ me once. She got bit by a snake … a big one. A Mulga. We though she wouldn’t make it, but she did. She’s a tough ol’ girl.” He felt Lizzie’s hand pat his chest where his medicine pouch lay, and her care made him smile. His reply was growly but soft. “_Dammit!_ Y’know … that big moron would love a calf. I guess we’ll just have to see how it all pans out, huh.”

Lizzie let out a little squeal of delight.

“See??” she prattled, “that means we’ll have to get the babbie a headcollar and a grooming kit just like Sparky’s” – Sparky was Lizzie’s birthday present from Eliot, a grey colt out of one of the Munros’ best stock mares – “and … and … we’ll have to think for a name for it and can Kip and I take Gertie and the babbie for walks, Eliot? So it can learn its manners and be gentle and –“

“Babbie?” Hardison queried, eyebrow raised.

“Yah-huh,” Lizzie nodded, all business now that Eliot’s worries had been dealt with as far as she was concerned. “Gertie’s going to be an awesome Mama!! And the babbie can grow up with Sparky and they can be best friends!”

She finally ran out of things to say, so she gazed around at her family expectantly, her arms still tight around Eliot’s shoulders.

Hardison shook his head for a moment or two and then quirked a grin.

“You, baby-girl, have been spendin’ ‘way too much time with Effie,” he quipped, referring to the fierce little cook who kept everyone at Wapanjara fed and loved in equal measure. Effie adored Lizzie.

The little girl gave her guardian and protector a squeezy hug, and then let him go so that she could do a little excited dance on the spot.

“I can’t WAIT!!” she exclaimed, brown eyes sparkling with delight, and dashed off to finish her packing.

“That girl gets weirder every day,” Hardison murmured and shook his head.

Sophie finished her tea and pursed her lips.

“I should be offended by that, Hardison, because she’s my – _our_ \- daughter,” she said, reaching out to grasp Nate’s hand, “but I have to agree with you.” She made a soft ‘tsk’-ing sound. “I blame Eliot,” she added with satisfaction.

Eliot blinked.

“Me??” he demanded, his worry for Gertie momentarily side-tracked as he bristled, muscles tense and blue eyes sparking. “What the hell did _I_ do??”

“Oh, man, it’s obvious!” Hardison broke in, brown gaze all a-twinkle. “It’s this … this _Australian_ thing! Y’know what she said to me yesterday? She told me she wanted a baby kangaroo as a pet.”

“Well, _yeah!"_ Parker was in total agreement. “Duh!”

“That’s _your_ fault, Parker!” Eliot griped, “you just had to mention –“

“What with the whole ‘helmet’ issue as well,” Nate commented, enjoying Eliot’s scowl as he mentioned Lizzie’s refusal to wear a riding helmet when she was at Wapanjara, preferring her Akubra hat.

“I’ll keep her safe, you know that!” Eliot retorted, voice hitching up a couple of notes as it always did when he was on the wrong end of his team’s teasing. “Dammit, Nate! You _know_ I’ll –“

Hardison grinned, face alight with humour.

“Man, Eliot … sometimes you’re so frikkin’ easy!”

Eliot stood up, fists knotting at his sides and a snarl creasing his face.

“_Dammit_, Hardison! I swear to _god_ –“

Hardison chuckled.

“Oh, c’mon, grandpa! Grow a pair!”

Parker beamed, eyes narrowed like a siamese cat, and gave Eliot a poke in the side as he simmered uselessly.

He glared at these people for whom he would give his life to keep them safe, and growled deep in his chest.

“Y’know what??” he rasped, waggling an accusatory finger at the delighted group before him, “You people … there’s somethin’ _wrong_ with you!”

And he abruptly did an about-turn, headed into his office and slammed the door behind him.

“Well,” Nate was disgracefully cheery as he looked around at his friends, “that went well!”

* * *

The next day, the last full day before Team Leverage flew to Darwin, Australia and thence to Tennant Creek and its small airport, found them dealing with a tense and worried Eliot Spencer and a very excited Elizabeth Grace Ford.

So they did the only thing they could think of. They sent Eliot off to a local mall with Lizzie to buy a few final Christmas presents the little girl wanted for her Australian family, especially for her good friend Kip, who was just a few months younger than Lizzie.

The hitter complained, growled, argued for a bit and then saw Lizzie’s bottom lip tremble because apparently she thought Eliot didn’t want to help her choose a present for Kip, so with brows drawn down in a particularly fierce scowl, he relented, received a thankful kiss on the end of his nose from Lizzie, and the two friends headed off for the day.

Everyone else breathed a sigh of relief.

The last of the packing was done, Hardison finalised menus with Sam Setrakian, the head cook at the brewpub when Eliot wasn’t there, and then they all settled down for coffee and cake before Lizzie and a no doubt bad-tempered Eliot returned from their errands.

* * *

It was late afternoon when Lizzie crashed through the door with a whoop, followed by Eliot, his arms full of parcels and looking decidedly tense.

Nate hitched an eyebrow as Lizzie began to flail her arms.

“Eliot hit a man with a _cabbage!_” she yelled, and turned to Eliot who was trying to set his burden down on the kitchen surface without dropping anything. “The man said _lots_ of rude words to me and grabbed my arm and Eliot picked up a cabbage and biffed him with it!!” She ran out of air, took a breath and continued. “_Twice!!_” She grinned with delight.

“Yeah … well … the S.O.B. deserved it,” Eliot grumbled, the tension obvious in his shoulders although his eyes were calm. Biffing bad guys, Lizzie often said, made Eliot feel better if he was in a bad mood.

“_He did what??_” Nate snapped, blue eyes wide with alarm, and he heard Sophie’s breathing stutter.

Lizzie let out a dramatic sigh as she flung herself onto the couch beside her parents, not noticing Hardison’s jaws clench in anger.

“I _told_ you, Daddy, Eliot hit a man with a _cabbage! Twice!_”

“_Who?? What guy??_ And why did he _lay a hand on my daughter?_” Nate realised he was shaking.

“_What the hell happened??”_ Hardison demanded even as Parker narrowed her eyes into a predatory glare and Sophie reached for her daughter.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” she gasped and pulled Lizzie to her, checking her for injuries.

“Oh Mama, I’m fine!” Lizzie was impatient now, desperate to tell her family all about it, but Eliot beat her to it as he unpacked some fresh fruit he had bought for the journey.

“Some ass-hat decided to pick on his kid when we were at the deli.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. Shopping, even with Lizzie, gave him a headache. “I sent ‘Lizbeth Grace to get a bag of persimmons while I picked up some figs, an’ before I knew it she was tellin’ this piece of shi – _garbage_ to stop pushin’ his little boy around.” Eliot’s upper lip curled in disgust. “He was shakin’ the crap out of him for not keepin’ up. The place was crawlin’ with folks, an’ not _one_ of ‘em made a move to help … _dammit_,” he added quietly. If it was one thing Eliot Spencer could not abide it was cruelty to children. “Before I could deal with it, ‘Lizbeth Grace was shoutin’ at him to leave the kid alone – “

“He was hurting him, mama! The little boy was crying and asking him to stop and –“ Lizzie’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “It was horrible!!”

“Oh, my darling!” Sophie whispered, and wiped a stray tear from Lizzie’s cheek, but the seven-year-old suddenly became fierce and proud and flapped a hand at Eliot.

“But Eliot made him stop, Mama! Didn’t you, Eliot?”

Eliot was standing quietly in the kitchen area, eyes hot and angry.

“Yeah … yeah, darlin’. I stopped him.” His voice was so soft he could barely be heard.

Lizzie was suddenly full of the moment, and she fixed her dark gaze on her parents.

“The man, he tried to hit Eliot and shouted nasty things at him, but Eliot just stood there and he caught the man’s hand, Mama! He just _caught it_ –“ she made a grabbing gesture with her own small hands, as though snatching a butterfly out of the air, “ – and stood there and the man, he tried and _tried _to get his hand free but Eliot wouldn’t let him and the man yelled because Eliot’s hand was so strong it was hurting him!”

“Go Eliot!” Hardison murmured under his breath and he heard Parker’s hiss of approval.

But Lizzie wasn’t finished.

“Then he grabbed my arm so Eliot, he … he shoved the man back and lifted a great big cabbage and hit him in the head! _Twice!!_” she finished triumphantly, gesturing wildly.

“The little boy,” Parker breathed quietly, “is … is he okay?”

“Yah-huh!” Lizzie began, but Eliot held up a hand to stop the oncoming prattle. Lizzie, unabashed, just grinned through unshed tears and allowed her parents fuss over her.

“The owner of the deli called the cops an’ the moron was arrested. Assault on a minor, I guess, an – “ Eliot began, but Lizzie couldn’t stay quiet.

“Everyone clapped!” she sang gleefully, “and they told Eliot he was a hero ‘cause the man was _really big_, and –“

Eliot winced at the comment. One thing he didn’t like was drawing attention to himself, especially with Lizzie beside him and under his protective gaze.

“The kid … he’ll be with Child Protective Services. He’s safe at least,” he continued, seeing Parker’s hurt frown. She had severe issues with the fostering system. “Don’t worry, Parker. I’ll make sure he’s alright, you know that.” He glanced at Hardison. “I’ll need the security footage wiped from the deli’s system, Hardison. Can you make it go away? I don’t want Lizzie on camera …”

Hardison nodded even as Eliot’s unspoken worries were left trailing in thin air. He stood up and headed for his laptop. ‘Tickle My Pickle’ was Eliot’s favourite deli, and Hardison knew it well.

“Got it, El. It’s as good as done.”

Eliot wearily ran fingers through his hair.

“Thanks, man. Soph … “ Eliot made his way to the chair opposite the couch and slumped down. “… Soph, she’s okay. I promise. You know nothin’ … _nobody_ … will ever hurt ‘Lizbeth Grace. Not while I’m still breathing.”

Quickly hugging her parents, Lizzie slid off the couch and flung herself at Eliot, arms around his neck and face beside his, rasping her cheek against his stubble.

“You were really brave!” she whispered in his ear, even as he let loose a deep, bear-like rumble in his chest.

“’Lizbeth Grace … don’t you ever do that again, y’hear?” he whispered back so only she could hear the hint of … well, whatever it was, she realised he was worried for her. “You come get me. We’ve already talked about this –“

Lizzie blushed as she felt the pressure on her chest from the medicine pouch Eliot had helped her make months before. It contained - among other things - a tiny piece of quartz Eliot had given to her which was meant to remind her that she was to think before she acted*. Impetuous as always, she had thought the big, nasty man wouldn’t touch her in front of so many people. She had been wrong, and once more Eliot had come to her rescue, as well as protecting the child the big brute had been abusing.

“I’m sorry, Eliot,” she mumbled, and he felt her chest hitch. _Damn_. Her single tear streaked his cheek, and she leaned back to gaze at him. “I’m so sorry! But … but that little boy –“

Eliot gave her his Lizzie smile, the half-hitch of his lips that made his laughter lines crinkle, and he bipped her nose, which made her giggle.

“I know, sweetheart. But it’s my job to take care of stuff like that. To keep you an’ your momma an’ daddy and Parker … even Hardison … “ he heard an indignant “Hey!!” from the back of the room, “ … safe, okay? It’s what I do.”

Lizzie beamed and knew she was forgiven.

“You hit him with a _cabbage!_” she exclaimed, shining brown eyes alive with pride. Her Good Wolf was _unstoppable_.

Eliot allowed himself a shrug of nonchalance.

“Yeah … well … it was only a savoy. A drumhead cabbage would’ve broken his jaw.”

Lizzie let out a throaty chortle, remembering Eliot crushing the big man’s hand as he hefted a couple of cabbages before finding the one he wanted and then slamming it against the miscreant’s head. The man went to his knees, only half-conscious, and an old lady and her family were taking care of the crying child, hugging him gently until his sobs lessened and stopped. As he heard the sirens Eliot had caught hold of Lizzie’s hand and they had melted into the assembled crowd as people broke into rippling applause. The owner of the deli, a good friend, slipped both of them through the store-room and out into the alley.

But even as Sophie and Nate fussed over their fearless daughter, Eliot had to stand up and retreat to his kitchen to begin unpacking wrapped gifts and the bag of fruit he had bought.

Leaning over the bag he suddenly had to grip the edge of the quartz surface and his knuckles whitened with tension.

He saw again the snarling, furious man fiercely grip Lizzie’s elbow and his best girl’s face scrunch up with pain. His heart skipped a beat and the rage began again, swamping him, flooding through him like a tsunami, and he had to physically steady himself.

_Almost_, he thought. _I almost killed him. I wanted to kill the bastard_. All because he had taken his eyes off Lizzie for mere seconds, and he berated himself for the momentary lapse of judgement. Only months previously, the team had been threatened by a man called Tomas Ponomarenko … The Confessor, known for his uncanny skills at extracting information from his victims. _And he knew about Lizzie_. Eliot had been so worried about Gertie he had dropped his guard for less than a minute. _Now it felt like a lifetime_. And the child he had sworn to protect had immediately walked straight into danger.

Eliot swore silently. It wouldn’t happen again. It would _never_ happen again. He was glad that they were all returning to Wapanjara for a couple of months. There, he knew, Lizzie would be safe.

Gathering his wits about him, he straightened, took a few deep breaths to calm his pounding heart, and set about making sure their trip to Australia went as smoothly as possible.

* * *

The flight to Australia was uneventful, more or less. There was a lot of sleeping, eating and cheerful arguing as Parker tended to cheat at Go Fish! The now-familiar big Gulfstream G650 jet meant that everyone had room to spread out and do their own thing, which in Lizzie’s case was bugging each and every one of them about what they would do over the festive period.

“ – and I’m going to go riding on Narra with Charlie and Kip and Grandpa Soapy said I could help him catch yabbies – I know how to do that, y’know, ‘cause he showed me – and … and … Effie said I could help make a Christmas cake and Charlie, he said he’d help me teach Sparky to walk on a lead rope and –“ she babbled, patting Eliot absently on the arm as she told him all about her plans.

“ – and why don’t you go take a nap an’ leave me be!” Eliot grumbled as he stretched out in his seat, spectacles on and doing his best to read a field manual of camel diseases, a book he fervently wished he hadn’t begun to read. It was slowly but surely freaking him out. But there was a chapter on camel reproduction and calving difficulties, so he was determined to get through it, no matter that it worried the crap out of him.

Lizzie peered over his shoulder and gasped as she saw a picture of a veterinarian with her arm inserted in a camel’s ‘bum-hole’ up to her armpit. The camel did not appear to be impressed.

“Are you going to do that to Gertie??” she asked, somewhat horrified.

Eliot snapped the book shut and glared at the child.

“Dammit, ‘Lizbeth Grace!” he railed, and then his eyes softened. “I hope not,” he continued, and taking off his spectacles, he rubbed his eyes which felt gritty from too much studying.

Lizzie moved her patting to his chest, and thought about it.

“You won’t have to, Eliot, because Gertie’s going to be fine, I know it!” she said with such confidence that Eliot had to smile.

“You do, huh?”

Lizzie nodded firmly.

“Yah-huh. Anyway, Grandma Jo knows all about having babbies so she’ll be able to help if Gertie’s babbie gets stuck.”

And Eliot realised that the seven-year-old was right. There was a wealth of experience at Wapanjara, from Charlie to the crew to Soapy and Jo, so even if Gertie did get into difficulties, and barring something completely unforseen, there was a good chance that she and her calf would survive. He threw the book onto the low, built-in table next to him and folding the legs on his spectacles he slid them into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt.

“Okay, okay … I got it.” He made a gesture that was somewhere in between a wave and a shrug. “She’s gonna have this baby whether I worry about it or not, so I suppose it’d be better if I stopped losin’ sleep over it, huh.”

Lizzie yawned and stretched out in the seat to Eliot’s left and flung her arms and legs into an uncoordinated sprawl. Within seconds she was sound asleep, one hand resting on Eliot’s arm.

Nate appeared carrying a blanket and a coffee. Draping the blanket over his snoring daughter he handed Eliot the coffee, who took it gratefully. Nate dropped into the seat opposite, leaned forward and studied Eliot for a moment or two before speaking, his voice low so as not to wake his slumbering daughter.

“Eliot … this man you cabbaged …”

Eliot sipped the hot beverage and then frowned thoughtfully at Nate for a second or two before answering.

“He was nothin’, Nate. Just a nasty bastard beatin’ on his kid – which he’ll never do again, that I promise. There was nothing to indicate he had anythin’ to do with Ponomarenko. Believe me … I’d know,” Eliot added as he saw Nate’s face settle into faint doubt.

Nate thought the situation through for a moment and nodded.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” Eliot took another sip of his coffee and settled a little more into his seat. He had every intention of catching some shut-eye during the long flight. “She’s safe, Nate. I won’t let anyone hurt her. They go through me first, you know that.”

Nate wiped a hand over his worried features and sighed. He knew Eliot would die keeping his daughter safe.

“I know, Eliot … I know. Maybe we can take a break from worrying about Ponomarenko while we’re at Wapanjara. Look … get some sleep. Soph and I are going to take a nap.”

So Eliot settled down and began to doze as the big jet left wispy trails in the star-filled night sky, heading onwards to love and laughter and the heart’s-ease of a place called Wapanjara.

* * *

The last stretch of the flight, from Darwin to Tennant Creek, was Lizzie’s favourite part. She peered out of a window and gave a running commentary of what she could see far below. For almost three hours she told anyone who was listening about the glint of water in the sub-tropical landscape and the far run of rivers meandering to the shallow, winking blue of the distant Timor Sea.

As the land changed she gazed with wonder at the rich browns and oranges of the edge of the great Tanami Desert, the colours draped over the land in drifts, folding into ancient creases and dotted here and there with the faded green of mulga and stringybark.

Eliot found he had to sit beside her as she watched the world outside the window, thousands of feet below her, an ever-changing vista that mesmerised her. Eliot answered her questions and pointed out places that he would take her one day. Lizzie was so excited she was jiggling.

As the jet dropped down, down towards the approach to Tennant Creek Lizzie was almost incoherent with anticipation. She sat between her parents and grasped their fingers, and closed her eyes as she waited for the tell-tale bumpety-bump of the jet as it slowed and taxied to the end of one of the two runways of Tennant Creek’s small airport. Even as the jet slowed and halted, Lizzie quickly unfastened her seatbelt, jammed her Akubra hat onto her curls and peered eagerly through the window by the door.

“GRANDMA!!” she yelled, “GRANDPA SOAPY!!” and as the smiling flight attendant finished lowering the steps she was off, skipping down onto the asphalt to race as fast as she could towards the two figures waiting just inside the hangar, both of them waving madly.

“Our girl’s home,” Soapy Munro murmured as he saw the little figure, arms flailing like crazy and shrieking like a banshee, run towards them in the heat of an early evening sunset.

She piled into Soapy’s arms and he lifted her off her feet, grinning as she kissed him hard. Then she twisted in his grasp and held her arms out to Jo, who was pulled close so that all three of them clung to each other, Lizzie showering her adoptive grandparents with sloppy kisses.

“Grandma!!” she finally managed to say as Jo studied the little girl in Soapy’s arms. “You’ll never guess what!”

Jo tucked a curl behind Lizzie’s ears and kept an eye on the rest of her family as they made their way down the steps, stretching cramped limbs and rubbing tired eyes.

“Yes, my girl, what is it??” she said even as her voice broke. Their family was _home_.

Lizzie gave her a gappy grin, showing a tooth beginning to fill a space at the front and then hugged Soapy gleefully before answering.

“Eliot," she gasped, "hit a bad guy with a _cabbage!!_”

To be continued … 

* * *

* To find out about Hadan and Lizzie's medicine pouch, read 'Gertie - The Outback Job'.


	2. There's a Weary Track to Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home at last, and there is much talking, lots of fluffery, Effie cooks and Eliot gives Gertie The Talk.

* * *

As the sun dropped towards the horizon and sent long tendrils of shadow across the warm asphalt, Team Leverage was welcomed back to the comfort of family. Hugs were given and received and Lizzie prattled and giggled and kissed her grandparents repeatedly, her delight at being home outweighing her manners, which for once nobody seemed to mind.

Jo Monro swept her fingers through her crown of silver-auburn curls and smiled and chuckled, and then wept a little until her face hurt, but she didn’t care a whit. In between Lizzie’s chatter and all of the hugging, she did what she always did, and checked her family.

Although Team Leverage had been back in Portland for the past couple of months Jo had kept in touch with the team via the new-fangled technology Hardison had gifted them before leaving Wapanjara. Video-calls didn’t replace having the people she loved around her in person, but at least she could see them and make sure they were taking care of themselves.

They all looked well but tired, she decided, apart from Lizzie, who flitted like a hummingbird from Soapy to Jo and back again, unable, it seemed, to let go of their hands unless it was to wrap her arms around their waists for a hug.

Jo grinned as Nate dropped a kiss on her cheek and she cupped his face.

“It’s so good to see you all, Nate,” she murmured, and Nate’s face creased into a cheeky grin. “I can’t wait for you to see Wapanjara – it’s changed a bit,” she added cryptically.

“Oh, I hope not too much,” Sophie said, dark eyes wide with concern as she hugged Soapy. Sophie especially treasured Wapanjara. For a woman who loved a cosmopolitan lifestyle and all of the trappings it brought, somehow the old homestead and its quiet, timeless solitude had worked its way into her heart.

Jo laughed, her voice bell-like in the balmy air.

“I think you’ll like it, although it isn’t finished yet. At least you won’t have to sleep in a tent this time,” she added, and saw the relief on Sophie’s face. “You have a _real_ bed!”

Lizzie’s face lit up.

“Do I have my own room, Grandma?? Really??”

Jo winked.

“Right next to Eliot’s, and you even have a door out onto the veranda,” she said conspiratorially, and Lizzie let out a squeak of joy.

“Good-oh!!” she warbled, instantly settling back into Australian vernacular, “that means I can keep an eye on Eliot and take care of him next time he gets shot!!”

“Dammit, ‘Lizbeth Grace!” Eliot swore, sounding disgruntled. “You’d think I got shot on purpose!”

Lizzie snorted.

“You’re always getting biffed or shot or something,” she said with authority, “and someone has to look after you! And I’m good at helping, aren’t I, Grandma?”

Jo nodded, treating Lizzie’s query with the gravity it deserved.

“Indeed you are, young Lizzie. Very good indeed. You are an excellent Eliot-nurse!”

And for a moment Jo remembered a six-year-old Lizzie watching over Eliot as Jo took a bullet out of him, and the little girl’s selfless care and love of her ‘Good Wolf’ as he struggled with fever and nightmares and infection.

“Like you didn’t run towards the bad guy in Washington all those years ago and got shot twice for your troubles!” Parker snarked as she poked Eliot in the arm.

“OW! _Stop it_, Parker!” Eliot groused and rubbed the poked bit.

“And, of course, there was that dumbass Mcallister, El. Remember?”Hardison teased mercilessly.

Eliot’s eye tic’d.

“I was wearin’ my spidey armour!” he snarled, mentioning the lightweight specially-designed body protector Hardison had made for him and which saved his life when psychotic Danny Mcallister Junior had shot the Oklahoman from only feet away.

“And then there was that sniper, Eades –“ Nate continued, scratching his chin.

“ –as well as Chong. Bloody man,” Sophie added waspishly. “And, there are always the times when for some ridiculous reason you think you need to take a beating for the team. Remember your Bruce Willis moment? Hmmm? _Yippee-kay-ay_ indeed!”

Eliot glared ferociously at these people he loved and surreptitiously rubbed the place under his left arm where a scar lay, the muscle still achy and sometimes stiff, from the bullet that had nicked a vein and caused him to nearly bleed to death only a couple of months previously. He didn’t like to admit it, but he still had a little bit of a problem raising the arm over his head. But, he determined, he would work on it and it would improve. _He hoped_.

Lizzie wasn’t in the least deterred by her guardian’s growly defence. She raised an eyebrow, and pursed her lips.

“It doesn’t matter, because you get hurt and then you get grumpy and Grandma and Effie and me … we have to look after you because you’re _silly_,” she complained, and then flung her arms around his waist in what she obviously thought was a supportive hug. Eliot muttered something under his breath, but luckily Lizzie didn’t understand it.

“You’re looking well, anyway,” Soapy observed, and Jo had to agree. But they were disturbed by airport staff trundling luggage from the jet into the hangar and thence to the exterior parking lot, thankfully without the hassle of immigration checks, which had already been dealt with at Darwin. “Righto – let’s get going. If we’re lucky, we’ll make it before dark,” he added, and reached out to take Lizzie’s hand. “C’mon, sweetheart – let’s go home.”

Lizzie unwrapped herself from Eliot’s midriff and took the proffered hand, but before the little group headed towards the exit, she tugged on Soapy’s fingers.

“Grandpa!! I forgot something! I’ll be right back!”

And before anyone could stop her, she ran to the jet and disappeared inside, re-emerging moments later with her much-loved plushy kangaroo under one arm. Dashing back to her family, she grasped her grandfather’s hand one more, and grinned.

“I nearly left Cec on the ‘plane!” she gasped, out of breath. “Can we go now?? I can’t _wait_ to get home!”

And with the balance restored by way of the addition of one plushy toy, they all headed through the shadowed hangar and out into the neat parking lot beyond.

* * *

Hardison let out a throaty chuckle of pleasure as he spotted the beast of a double-cab truck in the parking lot, black in colour and brooding menacingly in the low sunshine.

“There’s my girl!” he exclaimed and waltzed forward to fling his long body over the front grille. “Bernadette,” he crooned softly, “baby! Looks like Soapy’s been treatin’ you right!”

There was only a slight film of red dust on Bernadette’s gleaming livery, and it became obvious that Bernadette, Team Leverage’s all-terrain vehicle, had not suffered _at all_ during her stay at Wapanjara.

“Washed and waxed every Sunday morning,” Jo chortled, glancing at her unrepentant husband. “Even if all she’s done is sit in the barn.”

“Well, I promised Alec I’d look after her,” Soapy retorted, a slight blush creeping over his lugubrious features. “And anyway, she’s paid her way over the past couple of months. Our old ute … well, it’s seen far better days and decides not to work more often than not.”

But there was an equally big truck sitting beside Bernadette, which led Nate to wander over and have a look, especially since it had the logo ‘WAPANJARA CATTLE STATION’ emblazoned tastefully on the driver and passenger doors. He frowned, puzzled. It looked familiar, even though he didn’t recognise the dark burgundy colour.

Jo eased past him and unlocked the big vehicle.

“Is this yours??” Lizzie breathed as she saw Jo open the rear door. Inside, the seats were spacious and comfortable. The door was solid and heavy, and it was the sturdiness of the door which finally jarred Nate’s memory.

“This is Chong’s, right?*” he asked, and Soapy grinned.

“It _was_ Chong’s,” he corrected, and lifted Lizzie into the vehicle where she scrambled along the seat to the far side, settling Cec beside her on the fine leather seat. “When we got Alinjirri’s full inventory list there were four of these things sitting in a barn.” Soapy ran an affectionate hand over the big truck’s fender. “There are two double-cabs and two single. So we got four almost brand-new vehicles as part of the package. Her name’s Doris,” he added happily.

“She’s a beauty,” Hardison murmured, distracted for a moment from Bernadette’s formidable presence. He studied her build and his team could already see the hacker coming up with ways of making Doris even more useful with his own technological and geeky additions.

“Armoured, by the look of her,” Eliot said thoughtfully. He remembered Chong driving down the dirt road in this very truck into Wapanjara’s yard, and watching the young triad snakehead doing his best to convince the Munros to sell Wapanjara to him. The vehicle he was now studying had been sand-coloured and intimidating, but now … well, Doris certainly looked the part of a sturdy workhorse for a huge, sprawling cattle station, ready to do her bit to keep the business viable.

While Bernadette was state-of-the-art and formidable in her own right, Doris was specifically built to protect her occupants with bullet-proof glass and reinforced plating. It also made her very heavy, but that didn’t matter. Eliot was far happier now that Lizzie was in Doris’s safe confines.

As the team split between the two vehicles, Eliot pondered the situation. Gertie and her impending motherhood aside, there was a lot to do over the next couple of months.

The acquisition of what had once been Albany Mining Company and now reverted back to the _Warumungu_ name of Alinjirri, the old cattle station had been purchased with the creation of a second Team Leverage in mind, this time working throughout Australia. Alinjirri was to be its base, as well as being a working cattle station with Soapy, Charlie Jakkamarra and Eliot as its co-owners.

Bringing Alinjirri back into being as a cattle station was taking a lot of work and creative thinking, and part of this working vacation was addressing some of the problems that had arisen, as well as recruiting some members of the new team.

Eliot knew Nate was especially eager to put his various plans into operation, but always at the back of everyone’s mind was the ever-present threat of Tomas Ponomarenko.

He brooded on the situation. Right now he felt as though he could reasonably allow himself to rein in his almost pathological worries for Lizzie and his people. Both cattle stations were protected by a security system of which even Homeland Security would be envious, and the addition of the four armoured trucks made the hitter’s worries ease a little.

“Eliot? You comin’, bro?” Hardison’s soft voice interrupted Eliot’s ponderings, and he nodded, taking a deep breath so as to help him focus on other, happier things. “Effie’ll be wonderin’ where the hell we got to, an’ I ain’t going to take a head-slap for bein’ late.”

Eliot allowed himself a wry grin. Wapanjara’s little cook was very liberal with her affectionate yet sharp cuffs around the ear or a slap on the back of any miscreant’s head.

“Yeah, well, she’s gotta catch us first, huh,” he quipped and then eased into Bernadette’s front passenger seat. “Okay, Hardison. Take us home.”

And as the shadows lengthened and accompanied by a hearty whoop from Lizzie as she peered through the window so that she could see her beloved outback, Bernadette made her way out of the parking lot. She was followed by Doris, whose stolid bulk made her look like a faithful yet protective pit-bull terrier, and both vehicles and their family headed out onto the great Stuart Highway, turning South towards Wapanjara and home.

* * *

The two-hour trip was the final lap of a very, very long journey. After dropping Eliot off at his storage unit just outside the airport, he caught up with them ten minutes later on his old Ducati motorbike, skilfully roaring past the two trucks to take up point, leading this unconventional and rather intimidating convoy into the setting sun as he turned off the highway and onto Wapanjara’s red-dirt road.

Just under two hours later they were on the final few miles, Soapy pointing out to Nate the newly-laid single-track road leading off to the west and to Alinjirri, wending its way through stringybarks and acacias, the whole layout understated but well-metalled. It didn’t impinge much on the landscape, for which Eliot in particular was most thankful. But it meant Alinjirri was now within reach instead of taking a 12-hour round trip to the place, being only an hour away overland. It was their back door to Team Leverage Australia’s base, and while not invisible by any means, the road wasn’t easy to spot.

The sun was disappearing below the horizon as Eliot rode the Ducati over the brow of the hill and down, down towards the homestead sitting in its cradle of yards and pens, and even as he made his way past the ancient gum tree which guarded the main gate, he could smell the rich, sultry perfume of Jo’s roses and hear the barks of the three heelers as they raced to meet him from the huge old barn which stood guard behind the house.

The veranda lights were already on, casting a warm, welcoming glow, and the door opened to gape golden light from the hallway. A small, dumpy figure stumped onto the veranda to stand, pudgy hands on hips, to watch the two trucks pull into the roomy yard and come to a halt beside the trees and Jo’s precious garden.

Eliot turned off the Ducati’s engine and put it up on its kick-stand, and removing his helmet he grinned up at the figure on the veranda.

“Hey, Eff,” he said, voice gruff with love. “We’re home.”

Effie McPhee, cook, housekeeper and fierce protector of her family, scowled.

“About bloody time, you cheeky bastard!” she ground out, her muddy eyes glittering in the light. "Dinner's just about ready, and if you don’t hurry up and get your Yank arses up here it’ll go in the dog!”

Even as she spoke, said small white dog charged out of the house and scooted down the veranda steps to join Eliot, barking madly. He was joined by the heelers who swarmed around Bernadette and Doris, welcoming each and every person who slid wearily from the big vehicles.

But one figure hit the ground running. Lizzie was finally home with the people she loved most in the world and in the place which ruled her heart, and she ran yelling across the yard to be welcomed by Buster, the little white terrier at her heels, bouncing and yapping and so happy to see the missing members of his tribe.

Lizzie scrambled as fast as she could up the veranda steps and piled into Effie so hard the little cook had to sit down on Eliot’s recliner in its place beside the door.

Finding herself with an armful of child, Effie wrapped her arms around the little girl and held her as tightly as she dared, Lizzie nuzzling into Effie’s chest with a sob of happiness.

“Now then, nipper,” Effie rumbled, eyes watery with tears, “it’s good to be home, hey?”

“Oh yes, Effie … oh, oh _yes_ …” Lizzie sobbed, and burrowed into Effie even more. “I missed you _ever_ so much!!”

“Nah,” Effie teased tearily, “surely not!”

Lizzie lifted her head and peered up at Effie’s scrunched up face as the little woman dabbled tears from her pudgy cheeks.

“Oh Effie, I did _so!_” Lizzie insisted, and gave Effie a kiss on the cheek, which made the cook chuckle.

Then the veranda was full of people talking and laughing and telling Effie how hungry they were, and Parker wrapped her arms around Effie’s head, the only bit of her not dealing with an ecstatic Elizabeth Grace Ford. A kiss was landed on Effie’s grey hair.

“We’re home, Effie!” Parker whispered. “For Christmas!”

And Effie McPhee, never one for showing anyone how much she cared, twisted her face into what she thought was a smile and couldn’t be happier.

* * *

The new bedrooms weren’t large but they were comfortable. Each had a window and a door that led out onto the new veranda extension which now ran along the entire left side of the house. Gertie had lost a section of her paddock and she couldn’t stick her nose through Eliot’s open window any more, but she could easily rest her head on the edge of the veranda opposite Eliot’s new door to his room. Eliot could still sit outside in the night air and relax with Gertie’s head beside him. She even had her own window in the veranda so that she could whiffle at whatever part of Eliot was within reach.

The veranda was adorned with even more comfy old chairs and a second swing seat dotted with home-made cushions. Lights were hung along the eaves, and the whole of this new extension of Wapanjara was instantly welcoming, warm and homely.

Lizzie opened the door to her room and squeaked with delight. She had a nice, big bed with a night stand, and a roomy, well-padded chair beside the door to the veranda. There was no other furniture as yet, but there were several mysterious, large, long cardboard boxes stacked against the corner. Lizzie dumped her case on her bed and tucked Cec under the comforter to keep him warm, and then she peeked into the ‘jack-and-jill’ bathroom which she shared with her next-door neighbour, who happened to be Eliot. She grinned at the bottle of very expensive tea-tree shampoo on the highest shelf in the bathroom. Eliot was very protective of his shampoo.

She heard Effie’s bawl telling everyone dinner was ready, and chiding Cec to behave himself she dashed from her new room, clattered along the extended corridor and peered through the open doorway of Eliot’s room.

“_Dinner!!_” she yelled, and with a “_Dammit,_ ‘Lizbeth Grace, I ain’t _deaf!!_” echoing in her ears she gleefully continued her way past the kitchen and living room and out onto the veranda.

“_LIZZIE!!_”

And there, rushing towards her with his arms wide, was her dear friend Kip Jakkamarra, blond-dark curls bouncing as he and Lizzie hugged each other as though they hadn’t seen each other in years instead of a couple of months.

The little boy began to chatter about Sparky and Batu, his big gelding, and how Gertie was really fat but that was okay because she was having a babbie, and the two children sat down on the swing seat as Kip’s father Charlie arose from his seat to hold out a hand to Eliot as the American emerged from the house.

The two men, brothers in every way but blood, clasped forearms.

“Welcome home, Eliot Spencer of the _Aniwaya_,” Charlie grinned, his dark eyes luminous with pleasure.

“It’s good to be home, Charlie Jakkamarra of the _Warumungu_,” Eliot replied, glad to see the softness in the young widower’s face. Charlie’s beloved wife Alice had died … had been murdered … only months before by Chong Bun Tsui and his associates. She had been revenged and Alice’s spirit now walked the Dreaming, but Charlie and Kip were far from recovered from her loss. But Eliot knew Lizzie’s presence would help Kip as the two were best friends.

The gurgle of a baby made Eliot turn around and there was Mei Munro, Soapy and Jo’s adopted daughter, her own infant daughter Rose in her arms. Soapy stood beside her holding little Jamie, Rose’s twin, and it was Jamie who had let out a chortle as his grandfather tickled him.

“There’s my darlin’!” Hardison crooned at Rose as he emerged from the house and beamed at Mei even as he held his arms out to take the baby. “Hey girl!” he said to Mei and bent over to kiss her cheek, “It’s so good to see you!”

Mei beamed so widely that her cheeks pouted and she offered Rose to the tall hacker, who took the smiling baby in his arms. Jamie waved a hand at Hardison and gave him a gummy grin.

“Look at ‘em, Soapy!” Hardison said with wonder in his voice, “they’re gettin’ so big! Jamie’s almost caught up with his sis!”

At just over three months old, the twins had been very small when they were born, Mei being undernourished and the babies premature. But with love and care they had obviously thrived, and now were chubby, happy little souls surrounded by a family who adored them.

Tucking Rose tenderly into his left arm and holding her snugly against his chest, Hardison reached out and tickled Jamie, who shrieked with delight.

“Yeah, little brother,” Hardison whispered, “I hear ya. You an’ Rose an’ me … we’re gonna have a cool time while I’m home. I promise.”

Mei stood on tiptoes and whispered into Hardison’s ear.

“I’m so happy, Alec. And it’s all because of you. Thank you.”

Hardison had made sure that Mei and her children were Australians, members of the Munro family and finally severing Mei’s link to mainland China, sold by her father when she was fifteen to Chong Bun Tsui in lieu of a debt. The snakehead had fathered her children but he had never seen them. Eliot had seen to that. Now she was free, had a new family which adored her and her children, and their lives were now in Australia.

“No problem, Mei,” Hardison said earnestly. “You deserve happiness, girl. You an’ these two lil’ pipsqueaks!” He leaned down and pressed a kiss against Rose’s downy head.

“Righto, you lot!” Effie groused as she hobbled through from the kitchen carrying plates and utensils, Charlie bringing up the rear with more dishes. “Dinner! Sit! Eat!”

And as the fireflies flared in the darkness beyond the veranda, the table was laden with steaming piles of fragrant rice and richly herbed roasted vegetables. A tagine Eliot had brought back from a job in Marrakesh some years before now sat resplendently in the centre, filled with delicious spicy chicken in a sauce made with Jo’s home-grown tomatoes and sweet with apricots and sultry spices. A plate covered in a cloth was found to contain a pile of warm _khubz_, the flatbread ready to be torn into pieces and dipped in the sauce. There were dishes of salad and humous and delicate, spicy couscous, redolent with garlic, and everything was washed down with cold beers and fruit juice for the children.

The aromas of the Middle East drifted through the air and mingled with the scent of roses and jasmine, and the soft light of the veranda shone on happy, relaxed people in old, over-stuffed chairs, chatting and laughing and eating food from small tables. Lizzie and Kip sat on the floor next to Eliot and giggled as they ate, talking with their mouths full and sneaking morsels of chicken to Buster and the heelers, the dogs allowed onto the veranda for once.

This was finger food, something the children in particular loved, and Eliot sat happily in his old recliner and began, oh so slowly, to relax. He had his people all around him and within his circle of protection.

_Ponomarenko_.

His name rankled, Eliot knew, and no matter what he did, the man’s threat was always at the forefront of Eliot’s concerns. He watched Lizzie and Kip, the two children sitting cross-legged at his feet stuffing their faces with Effie’s magnificent food, and was glad that the little girl he loved didn’t know that the man had threatened her.

But here at Wapanjara, with distance and remoteness and Hardison’s top-notch security system on their side, she would be safer than anywhere else. He had a trip to Alice Springs in a few days to deal with, but now they had Doris he worried less. And, he sighed mentally, there was Gertie. That was a whole new worry which he hadn’t figured into his plan. Gertie was going to have a _baby_. _Dammit_.

He sat and thought about Gertie for a while as the ebb and flow of conversation washed around him, but it was as he finished his plateful of Mei’s deliciously light _muhalabieh_ dessert that he finally spoke.

“Soapy … is, ah … is Gertie in the South paddock?” he asked quietly as Hardison and Parker played peek-a-boo with the twins and Nate poured freshly made coffee for Sophie as she rocked gently on the swing-seat.

Soapy ate his final mouthful of the scrumptious milky dessert laced with rosewater and pistachios and sighed, patting his stomach.

“Nah. I didn’t want her outside, boy, seeing as this is her first calf. I put her in the foaling box in the barn at night so we can keep an eye on her.” He cocked an eyebrow at Eliot. “You shouldn’t worry so much, Eliot. She’s doing really well, I promise.”

Charlie sipped his beer and studied his friend. Eliot looked the picture of a fretting mother hen.

“Rey was out a few days ago and we had Gertie checked over because we knew you’d be worried, and she said the old girl’s fine. So no worries, mate. Okay?”

Eliot’s brows drew down as he thought about it. Rey Bianchi, the veterinarian from Tennant Creek, was someone he trusted implicitly, but it still didn’t quell the uncertainty in his heart.

“Thanks for that, Charlie, but …” he sighed and hoisted himself to his feet. Although he, like the rest of the team, was exhausted, he wouldn’t rest properly until he had seen Gertie for himself. “Gonna go check the big moron. See how she’s doin’. Maybe sit with her for a while. And no, ‘Lizbeth Grace, you can’t come with. You have to help clear dishes, darlin’ –“

“I can bloody manage, you mongrel!” Effie growled, delighted that everyone had enjoyed the meal she and Mei had prepared for the homecoming, “Clever Clogs and Sunbeam can wash and Missy and the Duchess can dry, and the Princess an’ me’ll put away. The Missus and Mister M’ll look after the babbies. See? Sorted.”

Lizzie and Kip bounced to their feet and gazed up at Eliot who groaned helplessly and glared at Effie, her eyes glinting with mischief. The children jammed on their hats and declared themselves ready for anything.

“Okay, okay. You can come,” he groused, “both of you. But be quiet, y’hear? I don’t want Gertie stressed out or upset or … or …” he looked around at the smirks and grins of people enjoying an Eliot Spencer dealing with something outside his comfort zone. “Bastards!” he muttered under his breath, and narrowing his eyes in disgust, he clumped down the veranda steps with two happy children and a small white dog in tow, and cursing to himself he headed off around the side of the house and up the incline towards the barn, hands jammed in his jeans pockets and shoulders hunched, every line of his sturdy frame tense with frustration.

Nate finished his coffee and watched Eliot and his little entourage disappear into the darkness, the two children giggling and chattering as they followed the irate hitter.

“How long do we wait?” he asked no-one in particular.

“Oh … give him fifteen minutes, maybe?” Parker pondered. “If we hurry up we can get the dishes done before we … y’know … _go look_.”

Charlie stood up and stretched.

“Well, I have to go check on the mares before bed-time anyway, so I could use some help giving them their last feed.”

“Man, we can do that!” Hardison said as he dandled little Jamie on his knee, the child smiling benignly at the hacker. “But I wouldn’t be in Gertie’s shoes,” he added, “figuratively speakin’.”

Mei finished giving Rose her evening bottle of milk and frowned, puzzled.

“Why? Is the Cowboy angry with her?”

Hardison grinned.

“Well think about it!” he said cheerily, “his girl went off, had a one-night-stand an’ came home pregnant? He’s an outraged Poppa, that’s what he is! An’ I ain’t goin’ to miss this for the _world!_”

* * *

Eliot trudged past the cattle yards and the horse paddock where half a dozen mares and foals stood by the gate awaiting their suppers. He heard Lizzie let out a shriek of delight as one of the foals called out to the children as the exterior lights from the barn lit up the paddock.

“SPARKY!!” she yelled and ran to the gate, the colt peering at her through the heavy bars. Kip hurried after her and Eliot had to smile as he heard the two children begin to fuss Sparky as he lipped at her through the gate. Lizzie hadn’t seen her colt in person for a couple of months, although Kip had taken his laptop out to the paddock as often as he could so that Lizzie could see the youngster’s progress via video-call as his foal fluff fell out and he turned from bay to a dark grey.

At least, Eliot thought, the children would be occupied for a little while and he could check Gertie without an audience.

Walking through the open barn to the big foaling box, he was glad that Charlie had left the light on over the box, and he could hear a soft, rhythmic chewing and occasional burp as Gertie swallowed and then regurgitated her cud. The sound made Eliot’s stress levels ratchet down a couple of levels. If the huge camel was cudding then she was happy and content.

The box was just a large enclosed space which took up a corner of the barn. The upper third of the wooden walls were fitted with grilles so that the occupant could be quietly watched, and Eliot could see a pair of ears, one with a scarred hole through it, flicking contemplatively as Gertie ruminated on life.

Not wanting to startle her, he let out a low, soft whistle, and the ears suddenly pricked and their owner let out a happy _gurk_. Gertie heaved herself to her feet, rumbling and squeaking with delight, and she swung around to face Eliot as he opened the door to the big stable.

“Hey, darlin’ –“ he crooned, but as he stepped into the box he was suddenly swamped by breathy, stinky huffs, slurpy licks and camel-kisses, Gertie mumbling at his nose and chin and checking his pockets, telling Eliot how much she had missed him and still loved him. She let out a barrage of ridiculous, high-pitched squeaks and Eliot had to fend her off while trying to wipe saliva from his hair and face.

“Dammit, Gertie … stop, will ya! Gimmee a break here - “ he spluttered, but Gertie ignored him because she was too happy to see her best friend. He managed to take a step back and catch her _bosal_, rubbing her velvet muzzle as he whispered nonsense to her. Gertie gazed at him through impossibly long eyelashes and licked his hand, telling him he was loved.

“Okay, you fool, let’s have a look at you,” he rumbled affectionately, and Gertie obligingly stood still as Eliot let go of her _bosal_ and began to check her over.

She was pregnant, there was no denying it. But she wasn’t as rounded as he had expected, and she bulged slightly more on one side than the other. He ran a hand down her flank, which made her skin twitch and she gurgled to herself as though giggling. Eliot’s fingers scratched the wiry curls on her belly and then had a quick peek underneath.

“Wow!” he rasped, and his eyebrows hitched. He bent over to get a better look. Gertie’s udder was full and tight, and her teats were turgid. “You ain’t got long to go, huh,” he told Gertie, who swung her head around to see what he was doing. She tried to peer past him but she couldn’t see, so she nipped him very gently on the backside to make him move.

“_Ow!_” he groused, and straightened, “what the hell was that for?” he demanded, and rubbed the assaulted buttock. Gertie pricked her ears and looked surprised. “Don’t give me that look, you idiot!” Eliot continued, “you got yourself into this!”

Gertie yawned in Eliot’s face, yellow teeth bared, and then chomped, licking her lips before sticking her tongue out at Eliot, who scowled.

Eliot poked Gertie in the neck.

“You an’ me … we’re gonna have a little talk,” he said. “_Right now_.”

Gertie flapped her bottom lip at her best friend, once more showering him with saliva. Eliot cursed softly, and then wiped his face with his shirt sleeve. He turned and settled his tired frame on one of the big straw bales placed in each corner of the box to prevent Gertie becoming jammed when she went into labour. Gertie reached out and lipped at his nose, but Eliot carefully pushed her head away and _kooshed_ her down. She laboriously folded her legs and lowered her massive bulk in the deep straw, shifting incrementally to accommodate her belly which bulged out a little. She burbled happily and gazed at Eliot.

Eliot glared back. He prodded her nose with a forefinger to check that she was paying attention, and prepared himself.

“Now, you moron, you listen to me!” he growled, and Gertie blinked. Eliot’s temper was not at its best, so he took a few deep breaths before facing the inevitability of Gertie’s situation. Gertie waited patiently, watching Eliot’s every move. He was obviously going to tell her repeatedly how much he loved her. She pursed her lips and sighed.

“Don’t you try’n go all innocent on me, young lady!” Eliot snapped, and scowled at the camel. “Just … just what the _hell_ d’you think you were doin’, huh??” he demanded, giving Gertie a Death Glare. She stared at him fondly. “You don’t go wandering off, Gertie!” he continued, getting into the swing of things, “I … I know you kinda … well … had the _urge_, but …” he tailed off for a moment, suddenly uncomfortable. “Look … I know you girl camels go lookin’ for … um … _boy_ camels …” for some reason which he couldn’t account for, Eliot felt his ears redden in embarrassment. He let out a long breath, trying to steady himself. This was getting _stupid_. “Okay … okay … listen, Gertie.”

Gertie hummed and mumbled at Eliot’s fingers.

“You were feelin’ in the mood,” Eliot said finally, “an’ … an’ I get that. I really do. But … Jacko said the bull was a helluva big bastard, Gertie! And I know you ain’t exactly small, but … bull camels, they can get … well, they can get nasty when they’re in _musth_, and – “ he paused and rubbed the woolly bit between Gertie’s ears. Gertie squeaked with delight. “You coulda got hurt, you dumbass!” he finished, a note of desperation in every word.

Gertie snorted. As if _that_ could have happened. She knew how to look after herself.

“That ain’t the _point!_” Eliot insisted, and waggled a finger at the unrepentant camel. “And another thing!” he continued, now on a roll, “have you any idea how much trouble you’re in? Huh? Havin’ a baby at your age?? You have no idea what you’ve let yourself in for, do you?”

Gertie seemed very content and not in the least worried.

“Just ‘cause you feel like a bit of fun, off you go and get yourself knocked up, you dumbass! It’s a good job the poppa camel’s dead ‘cause if he wasn’t he’d be lookin’ at the wrong end of a thirty-ought-six right now, and don’t think just because I don’t like guns I wouldn’t have ended his sorry ass!”

Gertie stared at Eliot and flicked an ear.

Eliot nodded.

“Damn right!” he finished, and settled back on the bale, feeling happier now that Gertie understood she had stepped over the line. Gertie laid her head on Eliot’s lap and he gave her a noogie, his sense of paternal responsibility satisfied for now.

The two friends sat quietly for a few minutes, and Eliot was on the point of getting Gertie some feed when he saw something that made his breath hitch in wonder.

Something pushed outwards along Gertie’s lower side, a slow, gentle line moving under the brown hide, and Eliot leaned forward to rest his hand over Gertie’s belly. It was a foot, he was sure. The calf was alive and well and kicking, and right at that moment Eliot knew he couldn’t wait to see Gertie with her baby.

Somebody giggled.

Turning around, he saw his entire team and family peering in through the open doorway and Lizzie and Kip were hanging on Eliot’s every word. Hardison grinned like a Cheshire cat and had his cell ‘phone aimed at Eliot. He had obviously recorded the entire ‘discussion’.

The snarl Eliot gave out would have been worthy of a grizzly bear. He eased Gertie’s head off his lap and she grumbled and tugged at his sleeve, but Eliot ignored her.

“I swear to _God_, Hardison,” he hissed, eyes sparking with fury, “if you show _anyone_ a second of this I’ll cut off _every one_ of your frikkin’ fingers an’ poke your eyes out with ‘em –“

Hardison’s smile widened and somebody sniggered at the back. Eliot was sure it was Nate.

“Dang, Eliot!” Hardison crowed. “watchin’ you give Gertie ‘The Talk’ … it’s gold, man! Absolute gold, you ol’ Poppa Bear!”

Afterwards, Hardison would tell everyone who would listen that he had never heard “_Dammit, Hardison!_” said with such lethal intent, and he then knew he was in trouble.

To be continued … 

* * *

* To find out about Chong, read ‘Gertie – The Outback Job’.


	3. Out Fer a Bit Uv a Lark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: A late chapter because I’m having dental issues which make concentrating on writing a little tough. Sorry.
> 
> Not much here but worry, lots about cattle and horses and a spot of campdrafting.

* * *

Eliot awoke as morning light streamed into his room through his window adjacent to the open door which led out onto the new extension to the veranda. He stretched languorously under his blankets, and realised he had slept reasonably well despite his worries about Ponomarenko and Gertie.

He lay there for a moment, absorbing the quiet and allowing Wapanjara and its love to trickle into his being. He was home. _Home_. And now his team was here too, where they could relax and regain lost balance. His ‘Lizbeth Grace was safer here than anywhere else in the world, protected by her family and by Wapanjara itself, set as it was in an unforgiving landscape, wild and dangerous to those who didn’t respect it. Lizzie loved Wapanjara. It was in her soul and it guarded her fiercely, and she lived and breathed its air and the ancient, vast land loved her back. Ponomarenko would try and breach Wapanjara’s armour at his peril.

Eliot’s hand rested on the old Cherokee blanket draped over his bed covers, the black star stitched into one corner by his great-grandmother lying soft and comforting under his fingers. He smiled, the corners of his mouth turning up as he had a sudden memory of his mother’s blue eyes warm in the early morning light as she ran her fingers through her son’s thick hair. His Momma would have loved Wapanjara. Her laughter suddenly chimed in his heart, and Eliot thought once again about how much he missed her.

But life went on, and he had things to do this morning. Yawning, he eased out of his bed and absently scratched the healed scar under his left arm, which still bothered him a little. Making his way around his bed, he headed for the bathroom, looking forward to his early morning ablutions and a refreshing shower. Having his own bathroom was going to be a blessing, he thought, and turned the door handle.

It was locked.

He tried again. The door remained locked. Irritated, he rattled the handle.

“’Lizbeth Grace! You in there?” he rasped. “Hurry up, will ya??”

“I’m busy!!”came the reply.

Eliot muttered a few choice words under his breath and tried again.

“Are you gonna be long??”

Lizzie’s reply was enigmatic. “Don’t know!!” she said.

_Dammit_. Eliot pondered his options. He could use the main bathroom, but his shampoo wasn’t accessible. Well, he could deal with that. Digging out fresh boxers and a teeshirt, he slipped on his cut-offs, grabbed a towel, threw it over his shoulder and set forth.

He was brought up short by the sight of Nate and Hardison standing outside the door to the main bathroom, both of them looking glum but resigned.

“What the hell, Nate?” Eliot snarked as Nate let out a sad sigh.

Nathan Ford did not look a happy man. He too had a towel tucked under one arm and a bottle of shampoo in hand. Eliot checked out Hardison. He was in a bathrobe and carried a huge towel as well as his shaving kit.

Nate scowled.

“I never realised Sophie took up so much time in the bathroom. We have two at home so this problem … well, it just doesn’t arise.”

Hardison opened his mouth to speak but Eliot held up a finger.

“Shut up, Hardison. I ain’t talkin’ to you!” he growled, but Hardison, waiting for Mei to finish bathing the twins in the main bathroom, ignored him.

Parker at least wasn’t having a problem. She was sound asleep in Bernadette’s roof tent, her preferred bedroom. Parker _adored_ sleeping in the tent. She loved being high up and she loved the freedom of it. And this time, although she hadn’t told anyone, she had brought Bunny and Delbert with her. Delbert was a plushy koala she had bought for Bunny during her last visit to Wapanjara.

Jo appeared from the living room, fully dressed and looking as though she had been up and about for hours. She studied the small line of woeful men in various stages of undress clutching towels and other manly accoutrements such as shampoo and razors.

“Good grief!” she exclaimed with a smile. “It makes me wonder how we all managed when we had just one bathroom!”

“Damn womenfolk takin’ a month of Sundays to do whatever it is they like to do in bathrooms,” Hardison grumbled, and ignored Eliot’s glare.

“Yeah, well, what you know about women could be written on a pinhead Hardison, so –“

“All done!” Mei sang cheerily as she opened the bathroom door and shoved Jamie into Hardison’s arms. She then retrieved Rose, who lay on the floor on a thick pad, arms and legs flailing happily.

Jamie cackled merrily at Hardison, who juggled towel, shaving gear and baby. The little boy thought it was hilarious.

Mei drifted past, leaned over and kissed Jamie on the top of his head, beamed a happy smile at the three men and then she tugged Hardison’s teeshirt.

“Come on, Alec! Jamie is hungry and he wants his breakfast.” Her dark eyes shone with delight. “Effie is making pancakes,” she added with a calculating gleam in her eye, “with mango and bananas.”

Hardison looked at Jamie, who stared back with big eyes and then let out a giggly squeak as Hardison very gently poked his tummy with a long finger.

“You’re hungry, little man, huh,” the hacker mused. “Well, me too … me too. Tell you what. Let’s go do breakfast an’ then once I get a shower you an’ me an’ your sis, we go hang out while I do some work. How does that sound?”

Jamie smacked rosebud lips as Rose wriggled in her mother’s arms. Both children obviously thought it was a jolly good idea. Mei giggled and reached out to relieve Hardison of his shaving kit.

“There is maple syrup too,” she teased, and Hardison grinned.

“Lead on, little lady! Lead on!” He stuck out his chin, looking like an explorer ready to take on an unknown world, and Mei led the way as she and Hardison headed to the kitchen.

“Bathroom’s free!” Sophie sang as she sailed out into the corridor from the new bedroom. She looked stunning, Nate thought. Immaculately dressed and with not a hair out of place, she smiled serenely at Nate and Eliot. “For goodness sake, you two! Stop cluttering up the place like a pair of abandoned puppies. Breakfast’s almost ready!”

Lizzie’s door opened and the child emerged from her room, dressed and ready to get on with her day, Cec tucked under one arm and her Akubra hanging from its chinstrap at her back. She flapped her hand at Eliot.

“Come _on_, Eliot!! Effie’ll be mad if we don’t sit down for brekkie now!! And Kip and me … we’re going to brush the horses and check Gertie and then we’re helping –“

She babbled on about her day as her dark eyes shone with excitement at being home at Wapanjara, the place she loved most in the world.

Eliot eyed Sophie, who smiled smugly.

“Don’t look at me, Eliot.” She waved a hand vaguely at her daughter. “Your fault. You brought us here in the first place.” Sophie’s smile softened. “She’s happy. And, I have to say, so am I.” Her gaze switched to Nate. There was a suggestive gleam in her eye. “Nate … before sunset. You and me. Billabong. Alright? And no cozzies.”

Nate suddenly brightened, eyes crinkling as he smiled at the idea. A swim in the billabong at sunset with his wife sounded just the ticket. Especially when they didn’t bother taking their ‘cozzies’.

Eliot, disgusted, waggled a finger at his friends.

“You two – too much information, dammit!” he groused, gesturing with his chin at Lizzie, but it was too late. Lizzie looked up at her mother, eyes wide.

“But Mama! You can’t swim in the billabong without any clothes on! That would be _rude!_” she gasped, and Eliot raised his eyebrows, his waggling finger now pointed at the child.

“See? See what I mean? An’ I ain’t answering her, Soph! Okay?” he growled, and the tips of his ears turned a fetching shell-pink. For a man who wasn’t shy about his various casual relationships through the years and who teased Hardison mercilessly with information about how many women he had ‘liaised’ with, Eliot could be surprisingly prudish, especially where Lizzie was concerned.

“As if you’ve never swum in the billabong in your birthday suit,” Nate prodded, and Eliot’s lip began to curl.

“That’s different!” he hissed, and then wished he hadn’t answered. Lizzie turned to him with eyes alight with curiosity.

“_Why_ is it different?” she asked. “Mama, I don’t understand! Daddy, why –“

“_Damnation_, Soph!” Eliot snarled, upper lip twitching as it often did when he was irritated beyond belief, “I ain’t dealin’ with this!” He finally decided he had had enough. He straightened, gave an indignant growl, stalked past Sophie and Lizzie with as much dignity as he could muster and disappeared into his room. The door slammed shut behind him.

Lizzie blinked. She took a deep breath, thought about swimming in the billabong cozzie-less, and wrinkled her forehead in distaste.

“_I_ wouldn’t like to swim in the billabong without my cozzie,” she declared. “I might get bitten on the bum by a _yabbie!_” And with that, she copied Eliot’s dignified pose almost perfectly and with a faint ‘tsk’ of disapproval aimed at her parents, she headed for the kitchen and Effie’s affectionate grousing.

Sophie noted her daughter’s indignant poise and had to grin.

“Little Miss Prim and Proper,” she commented, and then shook her head. “I’m waiting for the day she says ‘_Dammit_, Mama!’” she added, amused, “and I expect she’ll be able to disarm a horde of ninjas and an army of Somalian pirates with her little finger without breaking a sweat before she’s ten.” But the smile suddenly faded from her beautiful features, dissolving into lines of worry and fear.

Nate reached out and squeezed her hand, reassuring his wife, or so he thought.

“Ponomarenko will never touch her, you know that,” he murmured softly. “Eliot would die before that would happen. We would ALL die before we let that happen,” he continued, trying his best to quell his wife’s fears for their daughter. “And she has her people here at Wapanjara. She’s well-protected, Soph. Better than anyone, up to and including the White House, Buckingham Palace and the Kremlin combined.”

Sophie’s lips pursed as she thought about it, and then she nodded as though trying to settle the issue in her mind. She sighed deeply and unhappily.

“I know, Nate … oh God, I know she’s safer than any of us. But … that man is targeting Eliot, and one way to do that is threaten Lizzie. And I have no idea how to deal with that.”

Nate heard every atom of worry in Sophie’s voice, and couldn’t deny she had a point.

“I know, I know,” he said, understanding the issues, “and I know we have to try and get to the bottom of it, but Hardison’s come up blank with every damn thing he’s tried, and if he can’t find the information then it’s either been worked on by someone better than Hardison or it simply doesn’t exist.”

The two of them stood for a moment in the shadowed corridor, a narrow beam of sunlight streaming in via the open door of their shared bedroom. They held hands and felt helpless in the moment, but Nate suddenly stirred.

“Look … Hardison’s still doing his best to track the bastard down … both Ponomarenko and that woman who’s supposed to have hired him. And we have people we trust out there who have their ears to the ground. We can’t let it get to us, Soph.” Nate’s voice hitched in his throat. “We just _can’t_. For Lizzie’s sake.”

Sophie huffed a frustrated sigh.

“It’s just so hard, Nate. y’know? I can’t even think straight most of the time because of this. And for some reason I think the nasty little bugger’s not just after Eliot. I think … I think there is a _lot_ more to it than that. Something more structured … more … oh …” she struggled with finding the words, “… more _complex_. There’s a plan of some sort working in the background that is far more complicated than we originally thought. I just know it! I wish I could wring the wanker’s scrawny neck!” she added with a finality that made Nate smile, despite his worry. Sophie was never more lovely than when she was furious.

Nate lifted her arm and tucked it through his and tugged gently.

“C’mon. Breakfast. We have a busy day, so let’s get some good food in us.” He leaned over and kissed his wife, which made Sophie smile despite her fear for their daughter. “Pancakes, Soph. _Effie’s_ pancakes. You’ll feel better after pancakes and a few cups of tea.”

Sophie’s eyebrows arched, her eyes now warm with love for her husband.

“Mmmm … tea. That’s definitely what I need. Some Earl Grey. And Effie always warms the teapot first. A lady after my own heart!” She waited for long moments, trying to let her nerves settle, and then with a decisive nod, she plastered a smile on her face and squeezed Nate’s biceps. “Right. Pancakes. And _tea_.”

Nate kissed her cheek again, her unique scent of Chanel and everything distinctively ‘Sophie’ making him hum with pleasure.

“See? It’ll work out, Soph. Our girl couldn’t be safer.”

And the two of them made their way along the corridor to Wapanjara’s huge old kitchen for plenty of good food and the warmth of family.

* * *

The discussion that morning once breakfast was eaten and the dishes done was detailed and wide-ranging.

First and foremost was the forthcoming trip to Alice Springs. Originally intended to be a fun visit organised by Hardison for Effie so that she could choose the rotisserie he had promised her, it had grown into an essential journey to pick up equipment for both Alinjirri and Wapanjara. Normally Soapy would have had to ship equipment from Darwin or Adelaide, but Hardison had other plans.

He sat back on his chair and grinned that shit-eating grin that made Eliot want to punch him.

“Cessna Cargomaster,” he said, steepling long fingers as he studied his audience. The last time Eliot had seen Hardison so excited was when he thought using a laser to cook food was actually something for which Eliot wouldn’t disembowel him instantly. Any threat to Eliot’s menus in the brewpub would certainly bring about the culprit’s Sudden Death.

Nate frowned, puzzled.

“Yeah … a ‘plane. What about it?” he asked, although he could guess where this was heading by the look of smug delight on the young hacker’s face.

“A _Super_ Cargomaster,” Hardison continued, dark eyes alight with pleasure. “Seats up to fourteen, has a helluva cargo space an’ can land on rough territory.” His grin widened even more. “I got us one on approval.”

“You bought a ‘_plane??_” Soapy’s bloodhound features were a picture of astonishment. “But –“

Hardison shrugged.

“Only on _approval_, Soapy. An’ yeah, I know we don’t have a runway … well, not yet … but I reckon we could do with one. See, I think it’ll come in handy – the new team’ll be far more flexible, an’ we can even make it pay as an outback transport rental. Onslow has a pilot’s license, and well … it’s a no-brainer, people! So … I plan that we all go to Alice Springs as a dry run, an’ we can pick up what we need an’ be home in two shakes of a kangaroo’s tail!”

He looked around at his team and family expectantly. When silence met his gaze, he furrowed his expressive eyebrows.

“Don’t thank me all at once,” he grumbled, but knew better than to complain. He could see the thoughtful glances and calculating chin-rubbing, and knew he had them all thinking. Onslow Dawson, the very able and deadly hitter for the new team, was a seasoned pilot of military cargo planes as well as helicopters.

Nate shrugged.

“Okay. Works for me. How long do we have it?”

Hardison, mollified a little, checked his notes.

“We pick it up at Tennant Creek tomorrow mornin’, an’ a pilot comes with the deal. It’s an hour or so to Alice Springs, we do what we gotta do, load up our stuff.” He turned to Effie. “I was thinkin’ … maybe … maybe we stay overnight someplace nice, then take Lizzie to Ayers Rock. She tol’ me she always wanted to see it, an’ there’s places we can stay for supper.” he added, listening to Lizzie and Kip chatter happily in the distance as they helped Jacko feed the mares and foals. “Charlie an’ Kip could come too.”

Eliot thought about it for a moment before shaking his head.

“It’s _Uluru_, Hardison, not Ayers Rock. An’ anyway … I don’t think it’s safe to take her this time. Either of the kids. We can do it another time –“

“Oh, don’t be so bloody anal, you young mongrel!” Effie rumbled as she placed her cup of tea on the veranda table so she could lean forward to scowl at Eliot. “You’ve been far more vulnerable back in bloomin’ America, aintcha, but here … well, that shonky bastard Pono-whatsit would have to go through _all_ us to touch either of ‘em. They’ll be surrounded by people who love ‘em, Yank. They’ll be safe enough.”

Eliot pondered the problem for a moment. Once again the need to protect those he loved swirled through his chest, and he now had Gertie to worry about as well. Just for a fleeting moment he felt the tight pressure of overwhelming frustration the situation caused, but he tamped it down and studied the expectant crowd of faces before him.

Effie was right. Portland was more vulnerable, with its easy accessibility and cosmopolitan landscape. Here in the Northern Territory, with its vast distances and unforgiving land, his people were safer, even in a town like Alice. He cocked an eyebrow at Nate and Sophie.

“Are you two okay with this?” he asked, doubt echoing in every word.

Nate grasped Sophie’s hand and thought about the conversation outside the bathroom. For a moment he saw once again the terror in Sophie’s eyes, but then her fear turned to determination, and his wife nodded her assent.

“Yeah … yeah, we’re okay with it,” he said, although he struggled to keep his voice steady. “If we let this get to us then Ponomarenko wins. We can’t allow any kind of show of weakness, Eliot, you know that. Anyway,” he added with a rueful smile, “we’re supposed to be on a working vacation, so I think we should just do what we want – but keep our eyes open. Remember, Ponomarenko, as far as we know, is still in Europe.”

Onslow had been keeping his eyes and ears open during a couple of retrieval jobs in Eastern Europe, and the Confessor himself had told Eliot he had work to carry out before he came after the hitter. But Eliot knew better than to trust a murderous bastard like Tomas Ponomarenko. He sighed. Nate was right. They couldn’t retreat into hiding – they had work to do, and the addition of a new team would make their defence even stronger.

Decision made, Eliot nodded curtly.

“Okay. We go to Alice. But we keep the kids close and stay together. I can’t have anyone of you idiots straying off on your own, y’hear me?” he growled, “’cause tryin’ to keep you fools in some sort of order is like herdin’ cats!”

“We’ll stay here,” Jo murmured as she reached for Soapy’s hand and held it tight. “Mei isn’t comfortable about leaving the homestead just yet, and the babies are still so little.” She quirked a smile, her green eyes soft in the morning sunlight. “Besides, we have a camel to keep an eye on.”

Soapy held Jo’s fingers tight and patted her hand.

“We’ll be fine, won’t we, old girl,” he said to his adored wife, and Jo nodded happily.

“Gertie still has a week or so to go I think, so don’t worry – we’ll take good care of her.” Jo smiled at Eliot, amused by his deep worry about his camel, but she understood his concerns.

Further discussion was interrupted by a loud, happy _gurk_.

Around the house ambled Gertie, accompanied by two children leading saddled horses and followed by a small white dog. Boss stockman Jacko brought up the rear, a rangy brown mare and a stocky, mean-eyed black gelding in tow. Jacko grinned, his tanned features alive with humour.

“Up to sorting some poddies, Yank? Get your soft city arse back in gear, hey?” Jacko called, and gestured at Eliot with the reins of the gelding.

“You should go, Eliot,” Sophie urged, and she smirked as Gertie crowded the bottom of the veranda steps, neck outstretched and tongue stuck out, ready to tell Eliot she loved him. Everyone noticed she waddled a little as she walked. A flurry of silly camel-squeaks ensued.

For a few moments, Eliot uncharacteristically dithered. He wanted to continue making decisions about the trip to Alice Springs, but he also wanted to keep Lizzie and Kip within his protective range. Lizzie’s face was a picture. She desperately wanted Eliot to accompany them, and she smiled as winningly as she could as her ride, a solid little dun called Narra, nudged at her back, the horse eager to be off.

“_Please_, Eliot?? It’ll be fun, and Gertie can come too! Jacko says it’ll do her good, and the babbie won’t come to any harm, Jacko says, and he says we have to check the water flow into the tank, and –“

Eliot made up his mind. Waving a hand at the rest of his team, he stood up and cricked his neck and then frowned.

“Hardison, make sure everyone’s on board for this trip, okay? I want everything simple so there’s nothin’ to screw up, y’hear?” He ran fingers through his hair, and squinted in the bright light. “ Eff, we’ll be back at noon. Everyone okay about this?” he asked finally, sure somebody would object, but all he saw were happy faces gazing back at him.

“I’ll make sure everythin’s in place, El, an’ I got a couple of leads to follow up. Jamie an’ Rose … we’re gonna have a blast, huh!” He bipped Rosie’s nose as she lay in her baby seat. She burbled happily. Hardison’s mobile face slipped for a moment into grim determination. “I got a new lead. I gotta keep chasin’ up that woman Ponomarenko’s workin’ for.”

Eliot knew Hardison would never give up. He was one of the most tenacious men Eliot knew, and despite Hardison driving him crazy, Eliot was grateful for his intelligence, skills and determination to protect his family.

He nodded, and Hardison’s face once more broke into a cheesy grin.

“Age of the geek, baby!” Hardison crowed, and Jamie joined in with a cheery cackle.

“Alright. Alright, let’s go, ‘Lizbeth Grace. You an’ Kip stay close, an’ don’t get in Jacko’s way. Charlie, are you happy about this?”

Charlie nodded, his bony frame stretched out on one of the old seats.

“No worries, Eliot. Kip couldn’t be safer, brother. Have a good morning. Soapy and me … we have some horses to shoe, so it’ll keep the boy out from under my feet.” He sighed as he saw Eliot hesitate. “For God’s sake, Eliot! Just go, will you?” he added, a little exasperation beginning to edge his voice. “Stop being so bloody intense. You’ll burst a blood vessel if you keep on like this, mate!”

Eliot took the hint. By the time he had changed into his riding boots, placed his stockman’s hat on his head and curled his whip over his shoulder, Kip and Lizzie were ready to go, settled into their saddles and itching to be gone into the North paddock.

He stumped down the veranda steps and Jacko, now astride the mare, handed the reins of the gelding to Eliot. The animal pulled a face and did his best to bite Eliot’s arm, but the hitter stepped back just in time and pushed the gelding’s ugly, coffin-shaped head away.

“Behave, you asshole,” he growled affectionately, but the gelding ignored him. The beast’s eyes glittered with malice and as Eliot swung into the saddle the horse tried again, the head snaking around on its ewe-neck and trying to take a chunk out of Eliot’s leg. Everyone heard the click of the gelding’s teeth as the bite missed by a hair’s breadth.

This time Eliot chuckled, amused, as the horse’s woefully lopped ears flattened against its head in sheer bad temper.

“Why is Ratbag always so angry?” Lizzie asked, worried a little for Eliot as the gelding grumbled and tossed his head, knowing it would annoy his rider.

Jacko snorted.

“Yeah, well, Ratbag by name, ratbag by nature. That’s just the way he is.” The little stockman squinted at the child. “Now, nippers – you know you never go near him, right? He’d kick you into the middle of next week as soon as look at you.”

Both Kip and Lizzie nodded solemnly as Eliot touched his heels to Ratbag’s sides and the horse hesitantly turned, giving a little, half-hearted buck as he deigned to bend to Eliot’s will. Even Gertie gave the animal a wide berth as she fell in behind the little group as they headed towards the North paddock gate. She complained bitterly because she couldn’t give Eliot the camel kisses he so obviously needed, but she dealt with it and strode serenely along, belly swaying, grumbling and squeaking to herself.

“WAIT FOR ME!!”

The yell brought the little party to a halt, and everyone twisted in the saddle to see Parker cantering awkwardly towards them on a bored-looking appaloosa gelding, her face screwed up in concentration.

Eliot sighed and shook his head. Parker and Kevin had a love-hate relationship going on, but it appeared Parker, with all of her ‘horse-clown’ issues, was determined to beat her fears.

“Come _on_, Parker! We ain’t got all day! There’s work to do!” he called out, and not waiting for her to catch up, he touched Ratbag into a grudging trot, and with the children letting out yells of excitement, they trotted off into the bush, sending up soft pouts of dust among the statuesque termite mounds, insects whirring from the dry grass. The constant hum of cicadas and the crackling call of a kookaburra followed the little group as they made their way towards the North paddock muster yards, and the vast outback welcomed them back into its heart.

* * *

There were nearly six hundred weaned calves, or ‘poddies’, milling in the huge, funneled enclosure which flowed into a complex of high-sided chutes leading to separated yards. A cattle-crush had been slotted into the main run so that animals could be checked, tagged and drenched with wormer before being sent through to whichever yard was their destination. In this case one yard was for cattle being retained on the station and the other was for steers intended to be sold on.

Some of the Wapanjara crew were already there, slowly but surely sorting young steers and heifers from the mob and sending them through the chutes for a health check and to be graded and sorted into the pens. Wapanjara’s old ute was parked away from the chutes and the tailgate was down, the flatbed holding all sorts of intriguing things such as drenching tools and containers of the worming anthelmintic ready to be used as cattle were held in the cattle crush. Eartags were laid out in order, and a laptop was open to the recording system Hardison had installed for Soapy, making the station’s work that much easier. Chill-boxes held bottled water and sandwiches.

Chalky Perkins, working cattle in the huge pen, lifted his hat and waved at the little group as they approached, Gertie striding majestically in the rear.

“Hoo-roo!” he yelled, and cantered over to meet them. “You ready to do some work, you lazy bludgers?”

Eliot brought Ratbag to a halt beside the high, sturdy wooden fence and grinned.

“It’s been a while, Chalky. Lookin’ forward to it.” Ratbag shifted under him as the horse tried to bite Chalky’s mare through the fence. Both Eliot and Chalky ignored him. “What d’you need us to do?”

Chalky thought about it and studied the eager faces of the two children sitting astride their mounts, eager to help. Parker held Kevin back a little, unsure as to what to do next, but Chalky grinned. “Hey, missy, how about you help the ringers over there.” He gestured at the riders in the pen quietly containing the huge group of cattle at the rear of the pen, doing their best to keep them calm and settled.

Parker blinked a few times and stared at the dust and the cattle, the riders watching how they moved and gauging how far to push them without upsetting the creatures.

“I … I don’t know how,” she muttered, and Kevin grumbled to himself, impatient with his rider.

Chalky settled his battered hat back on his head and nodded, understanding.

“Don’t worry. I got another jillaroo out there too, learning the job. The others’ll keep an eye on you … y’know … in case you fall off.”

Parker scowled and heard Eliot let out a snort of amusement.

“Fall off??” she snapped, annoyed. “I _never_ fall off. _Anything_,” she added, with a hint of ire.

Chalky hitched a wiry eyebrow at Eliot, who nodded in agreement.

“Righto then,” he continued, although he still doubted the young woman was as skilled as Eliot obviously believed her to be, “all you have to do is make sure the poddies are settled while the Yank and the rest of us cut out the ones we want and put ‘em through the chutes, alright? You nippers can help out here with the eartagging and pushing ‘em through the chutes, okay? But don’t get in the way, young ‘uns! My life wouldn’t be worth a brass razoo if you even got a scratch, so if we tell you to shift, nippers, you _shift! _Understand??”

Lizzie, eyes wide with wonder, nodded vigorously. She was going to _help_.

Jacko eased his mare to one side and gestured at the children.

“Follow me, you young buggers, and don’t get off your horses, hey? You’re safer on ‘em right now. Go help Nobby,” he gestured at a short figure standing by the cattle crush with a table beside him laden with an ear-tagger and a drenching bottle and tube. Another figure was stationed on the other side of the crush working the quick-release on the neck restraint, releasing the animal into the chute and sending it forward along the race and into the requisite pen.

Lizzie and Kip’s faces lit up. They _loved _Nobby. Eliot cringed. The old ringer had a foul mouth that put Effie’s to shame, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

“You two!” he said, letting his inner hitter-on-a-mission show, and his eyes narrowed, which was intended to show that he meant every word. Lizzie and Kip played along.

“Yes, Eliot,” Kip murmured dutifully. Lizzie sat respectfully silent.

Eliot scowled at the two children.

“You do as Nobby says! There will be no arguments, no ‘but Nobby’s, no sulking if you have to get out of the way. You understand?”

The children nodded, Lizzie adding a “Yah-huh, Eliot,” into the mix so that the Oklahoman knew she understood every word.

Eliot’s eyes became fierce slits as he studied the two children. He thought about it and then nodded curtly.

“Okay. Git. Both of you. We got work to do an’ if you want to get back in time for lunch, we have to get at least half of the mob done, you hear me?” But before the children could reply, he turned to Parker. “Go to the ute an’ dig out a spare hat, Parker. You’re gonna get sunstroke if you’re out there without a hat.”

Parker sat up and instinctively touched her head, surprised.

“Hat. I need a hat,” she muttered. Then she pointed at Eliot’s stock whip which he was now unfurling ready to haze individual cattle out of the mob and driving them towards the chute. “I want one of those, too,” she added firmly.

Eliot shook out the whip, Ratbag doing his best to try and catch hold of it and pull Eliot out of the saddle.

“In your dreams, Parker,” he rumbled, and poked Ratbag in the neck, telling the animal to behave. Gertie, settling down beside the ute, _gurked_ in approval. She was of the opinion that Ratbag should be consigned to a dog food tin.

Parker scowled, but urged Kevin over to the ute where she leaned over and dug out a spare stockman’s hat from a bag. She jammed it onto her head and declared herself ready to go. Kevin didn’t appear to agree as he slouched, ears lopping in disgust.

“Okay,” Eliot breathed, slipping the leather loop of his whip over his wrist, “let’s rock!”

And backing up Ratbag, he set off at a lope towards the gate where Chalky was waiting. Parker let out a yip which made Kevin start in surprise, and then the pair of them set off after Eliot, Kevin grumbling unhappily and Parker’s face alight with anticipation.

Jacko chuckled, and leaned forward to tuck the mare’s ear gently, settling her. She was keen to be on the move and working, as this was what she was made to do, and she pranced a little, eager to get amongst the cattle.

Nobby ambled over to say hello. He looked like a toothless scarecrow, ageless and shambling, and he was dusty and shabby. Only a pair of twinkling hazel eyes made his leathery features come alive.

“You ankle-biters! You’re with me, hey?” he cackled cheerfully, reaching out to pet Kip’s beloved Batu. Seeing the children’s nods, he shrugged his bony shoulders and gestured at the chute. “You bloody well do as you’re told, you little shits, and you’ll be fine. You get in my fu- … _fobbin’_ way, you arses, and I’ll kick your bastard bums all the way to bleedin’ Adelaide!” The little ringer had seen the glint in Eliot’s eye, and knew he didn’t like _that_ particular word uttered around the children. Which, Nobby thought, was a shame as it was his favourite. But work beckoned and there was already a bullock in the crush, so he stationed the children along the race to the pens and told them that if a beast baulked and tried to turn around, they were to wave their hats and haze the animal on.

“Righto, Nobby!” Lizzie yelled loudly, which made the bullock in the crush roll its eyes, but she realised she had to be a lot less noisy, and she muttered a ‘sorry’ as she was now a jillaroo and had to listen to what Nobby told her to do.

Nobby dropped his head to hide his grin, noisily hocked up some spit onto the dusty ground and set to work.

* * *

That morning Eliot worked out his frustrations about Ponomarenko by focusing on cutting out individual cattle from the mob and pushing them into a small holding pen, where Jacko waited to ease them into the chute and the crush. There Nobby checked eartags and replaced any that had been lost, drenching the animals for worms and giving them a once-over, looking for any health issues. Then they were released from the head-bale, sending them along the race where the two children shooed them towards the gates and thence sorted into pens.

Eliot swore and sweated and cracked his whip over the heads of stubborn steers, and Ratbag showed why he wasn’t sent to a pet food factory by being a tireless and agile stock horse with an iron constitution and equally iron-hard legs that stood up to the constant pressure of darting and propping as half-grown, wild-as-hell cattle tried to evade being herded towards the pens.

Parker sat astride Kevin and watched an Eliot she had never seen before. The hitter and the bad-tempered gelding were a well-oiled machine, and they were tireless. Eliot stood in his stirrups and his whip curled and cracked overhead as Ratbag galloped and propped and turned on a whisper, both of them in perfect synchronicity as cattle bawled and men shouted, and dust swirled about them as their perfect dance pushed recalcitrant cattle into pens. If a beast refused to turn, Ratbag and Eliot shouldered the animal, using Ratbag’s bulk to shove the beast in the right direction. A split-second lapse of concentration could send both Ratbag and Eliot into a sprawling heap, but never once did either of them make a mistake.

Once one was penned Eliot turned Ratbag towards the remaining mob and eased another beast out of the mass of brown and red hides, some animals with horns hooking sideways and trying to shove Ratbag out of the way.

But Ratbag never wavered. He took Eliot out of danger and then they would both turn back to the work in hand, and Parker saw the same grim determination on Eliot’s face that she saw when he was facing off six bad guys armed with machetes.

Parker learned how to hold Kevin ahead of the mob, keeping the cattle contained and as settled as she could, but her eyes kept being drawn back to Eliot, admiring his balance and skill, and by the time it was noon she had made a decision.

She trotted Kevin over to the gate to meet Chalky and Eliot as other stockmen took over for the afternoon, and she was surprised to see Eliot looking far more relaxed, teeth flashing in a grin from a dusty, dirty face. Both Eliot and Ratbag were rimed with sweat and red dust, but they looked at ease. Ratbag even reached out to bite Kevin on the rump, but Eliot gave him another poke in the neck and Ratbag stopped just in time.

Parker pointed at Eliot’s whip.

“That thing! When we come back from Alice Springs, you are going to teach me how to do that thing with the whip!” she demanded.

Eliot, curling up his kangaroo hide whip and easing it over one shoulder, hitched a surprised eyebrow.

“What? Using a whip?” He shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Parker scowled, leaving dusty creases on her mobile features.

“No! Not just that!” She gestured at one of the ringers cutting out cattle from the mob. “_That!_”

Chalky and Eliot glanced at one another.

“Parker, you’ve only just learned how to ride,” Eliot answered patiently, “it takes a helluva long time to learn to work cattle –“

“Don’t start that crap with _me_, Sparky,” she said waspishly, and Eliot could tell by the tone in her voice that Parker wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She gesticulated at a girl of no more that sixteen sending her horse towards the mob, whip ready.

“Penny can do it, so why can’t I?”

Eliot squinted in the sunlight as he stared at Penny, the girl cutting out a big bullock from the mob.

“Penny’s been riding since before she could walk, Parker. And anyway, Kevin’s no campdraft horse. He’s okay for doing a bit of mustering, but cutting out steers?” Eliot shook his head. “Nope.”

Parker frowned.

“Campdraft? What’s campdraft?” she asked impatiently.

Chalky leaned over to open the latch on the heavy gate and swing it open.

“It’s a competition we do out here, Parker, based on cutting out livestock. Kevin’s never been a cutting horse. He’s just a plain old stock horse. You need a horse like Ratbag or … or Spud here –“ he ran a hand down his mount’s neck, “ –to do what Eliot’s been up to all morning. It takes a horse with a bit a balance and nerve and it has to be quick on its feet. Dear old Kev …” Chalky grinned. “He’s just a bit of a bloody puddin’.”

Parker thought about it. Kevin didn’t appear to care less about the insult, but she wasn’t about to back down. She leaned over and poked Eliot in the ribs, which made him wince and swear under his breath.

“I don’t care! Kevin and me … we’re going to learn to campdraft!” she announced, and with that she cajoled Kevin into a walk and headed through the open gate, head held high with disdain, passing an open-mouthed Chalky.

Eliot glared at her retreating back.

“Aw … hell,” he said. “Why me? What the hell did I do? Just what the hell _did I do_ to deserve this?” And with Ratbag pulling faces at Spud, Eliot made his way out of the pen and sullenly rode out into the baked outback beyond the pens.

To be continued …


	4. When the World Was Wide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much here but a worried hitter, lots about cattle and horses and a spot of campdrafting, as well as a trip to Alice Springs. I’m a big rodeo fan, and seeing as Christian Kane comes from rodeo stock, I thought Eliot might enjoy the challenge of bull-riding.

* * *

The ride back to the homestead was slow and easy. Both children were very tired but happy to have helped with the muster. Although Kip had been surrounded by cattle all his life, sharing the experience with Lizzie made it all new and exciting, and they had worked hard to haze the poddies along the race and into the pens, with old Nobby yelling instructions once in a while to keep his charges on their toes.

Eliot relaxed his weary frame as they rode, allowing an equally tired Ratbag to droop his head and amble along, although it didn’t stop him trying to take a chunk out of Jacko’s leg as the man rode beside Eliot.

Lizzie was even too worn out to chatter about her morning. The combination of the work and the legacy of a long, tiring flight had drained her normally boundless energy, and she was content to let Narra have his head with Kip beside her, Batu walking quietly alongside Lizzie’s little dun gelding.

Gertie as always brought up the rear. She of all of them had had a pleasant, relaxing morning, sitting beside the ute, cudding happily and accepting any treats that came her way. She was eating for two, as she squeakily told anyone who was listening, and she managed to finagle an almost endless stream of bread crusts and apple cores as the ringers dropped by for water and a quick bite to eat.

Now she strode behind Eliot, careful to stay clear of Ratbag’s lethal back legs, and she gurgled to herself as she followed her family home.

Eliot had decided to ride back via the cattle yards so that they could give the horses a wash down and a feed before turning them loose in the small paddock beside the barn. But as they drew nearer to the yards, he noticed a small group of bulls penned at the rear of the barn. Wapanjara’s breeding bulls usually roamed the huge paddocks with the mobs of cows and calves, and they were rarely gathered together into a small bachelor herd, so Eliot was immediately intrigued.

Touching Ratbag into a trot, which made the gelding arch his back and try to buck, Eliot let out a sharp reprimand and Ratbag settled down into simmering bad temper and did as he was told.

The little group of riders stopped beside the roomy pen and studied the six bulls.

Jacko quirked a grin.

“Soapy’s new hobby,” he said.

Eliot studied the bulls. They were solid, well-grown and heavily muscled. All carried the hump and wide, sweeping horns that showed their Brahman blood, although the sharp tips of the horns had been removed and smoothed down. None of the animals, Eliot decided, weighed less than eighteen hundred pounds, and as they stood up from their resting place and turned to watch the newcomers, Eliot noted the lengthy, powerful backs and the long, sturdy legs.

It was then he realised what Jacko was talking about.

“Soapy’s breedin’ buckin’ bulls??” he asked, somewhat astonished.

“He’s always been a bit of a fan, and to be honest, it’s your bloody fault in the first place!” Jacko teased, china blue eyes warm with humour.

“My fault? How the hell is it my fault?” Eliot didn’t know whether to be testy or impressed. The bulls were, on this first impression, good sorts that would be a credit to any Stateside rodeo.

“When that bastard Chong was here … remember, you pretended to be the Duchess’s manager, and you were interested in Soapy’s bulls for breeding bucking stock?” Jacko prompted, using the nickname Effie had given Sophie. The crew had immediately adopted the name as their own. Sophie had been utterly charmed.

Eliot remembered alright. His cover as ‘Lady Eloise Stanton’s’ ranch manager had been fun to do, and he had waxed lyrical about the prospect of gaining good seed bulls from Wapanjara. He hadn’t had to lie. For years he had admired the quality of the Wapanjara stock.

Eliot shrugged and shifted in the saddle, easing his right leg. He was getting stiff after the hard work of the morning, but he ran a practiced eye once more over the bulls.

“Soapy’s got a good eye, that’s for sure,” he said, and sat quietly for a moment, thinking about Soapy’s intentions for the bulls.

Jacko knew exactly what the American was pondering.

“He’s taking them to the first Tennant Creek campdraft at the end of February,” he added, seeing the sudden spark of interest in Eliot’s eyes. “Thought he’d put ‘em forward for the bull riding competition and see if anyone’s interested in buying ‘em. What d’you think?”

Eliot thought some more and then nodded.

“You tried ‘em yet?” he asked, because he saw the bulls were held next to a chute which opened into the large pen usually used for moving cattle and loading them into the huge cattle transporters that plied the Stuart Highway between Darwin and Adelaide.

Jacko nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, we’ve tried ‘em with the dummy and a flank rope,” he answered, “and they buck bloody lovely, so they do, but … maybe they could do with someone who knows what they’re doing to have a go? See if they’re up to scratch? Charlie’s more of a buckjumper. Bulls isn’t really his thing, and the rest of the lads … well, it’s not something the silly buggers are used to.”

Eliot felt a jar of excitement in his gut, and Jacko noticed the glitter of anticipation in the Oklahoman’s eyes, and grinned.

“So, Yank … you up to trying the bastards out? Maybe in the new year, once your girl there –“ he gestured at Gertie, who was standing gazing absently into the distance, “ – has had her babbie.”

“You can ride bulls??” Lizzie asked, eyes round with shock. “_Really??_”

“He’s really good!” Kip hissed quietly at his best friend, “and he _never _falls off!”

Eliot allowed himself a smirk of pride.

“Well … not often, anyway. Yeah, ‘Lizbeth Grace, I ride bulls once in a while. I used to ride for the hell of it in local rodeos back in Oklahoma when I was a teenager, before I joined the army. An’ when I came to Wapanjara … well, it’s … it’s fun. I’ve been bull-ridin’ here for years, an’ Charlie and me … we compete at small campdrafts every now and then. He rides horses, an’ I ride bulls.”

“And they _win!_” Kip puffed his chest out to the point of explosion, or so it seemed. “My dad’s a _champ!_”

“Hey, little man!” Eliot groused, pretending to be insulted, “I ride straight eights an’ score high!”

Lizzie stared at Eliot as though she had never seen him before. Her guardian, godfather, protector and Good Wolf _rode bucking bulls_. She had never heard of anything so exciting.

“Can I watch? _Please_, Eliot?? When you ride the bulls? And … and can I come to the campdraft and watch too, and Kip can come as well and Mama and Daddy and Alec and Parker and we can watch Charlie ride wild horses and - ” Lizzie could barely breathe because she was so excited, her tiredness forgotten for now.

“The horses ain’t wild, ‘Lizbeth Grace,” Eliot interjected, “they’re just not broke. Bred for buckin’. Kip’s right. Charlie’s damn good at it an’ has been the local champion around here more’n once.” He ran the timeline through his head for a moment. He knew that the Leverage team would be at Wapanjara for a good two months or more, sorting out Alinjirri and dealing with acquiring more members for the new team. Even with the ever-present threat of Ponomarenko, he knew that the children would be protected. The Munros had many good friends in the area, and all would keep an eye on the children. He shrugged. “Hell, why not? It’s a good day out an’ the kids’ll enjoy it.” He winked at Lizzie. “They got calf-ridin’ for the children, an’ Effie always enters the CWA* cooking competitions.”

“Lamingtons,” Jacko sighed happily.

Parker studied the bulls, and her elfin face screwed up into thoughtfulness.

“I want to campdraft,” she said firmly, even as Kevin’s ears drooped, the horse descending into a doze.

Jacko stared at the little thief.

“You … you want to _compete??_ At campdrafting?? On _Kevin??_” he said faintly, and then let out a soft bark of laughter.

Parker suddenly leaned forward and covered Kevin’s ears with her hands.

“Hey!” she snapped, “he can _hear you!_”

Eliot rolled his eyes and sighed, irritated now.

“Parker … listen … you don’t really have enough time to learn how to campdraft, okay? Especially with Kevin. If you want to learn, there are a few good horses in the mob that’ll work with you an’ you can learn to do it properly, but –“

Parker’s eyes narrowed to feline slits.

“If_ I_ can learn, _Kevin_ can learn, Eliot! He just has to face his fears! And _we_ are going to enter the campdraft-y competition, okay??”

Kevin, who could hear every word despite Parker’s attempts to save his feelings, sighed and went to sleep.

Jacko thought about it.

“There’s a novice section she could try, Yank,” he said hesitantly. “Y’know … for learners. It’s mostly for teens, but … why not? She could give it a go, hey?”

“See??” Parker hissed. “When do we start?”

“I think it’s bonzer!” Kip interrupted as he stroked Batu’s roan neck. “Parker can do _anything!_”

Parker, surprised and delighted by Kip’s faith in her abilities, snorked happily and thief and child shared a fist-bump.

“You do realise you don’t use a whip in competition, Parker – it’s all about balance, speed and agility – all the things Kevin _ain’t_. You have to split a steer from a group an’ then herd it around a course, okay? An’ these animals aren’t tame, Parker – they’ll do their best to run you ragged. It’s no place for slow horses an’ new riders.” Eliot’s voice was full of doubt, and although he admired Parker’s determination he had to tell her how hard it was and how unlikely it would be for Kevin to even cut out a bullock, let alone be fast and agile enough to herd it around the pegged-out course.

Parker, however, wasn’t to be deterred. She stuck out her chin and her blue eyes sparked beneath the borrowed stockman’s hat.

“Don’t care. We can do it, Kevin, can’t we?”

Kevin, sound asleep, farted. Lizzie and Kip giggled.

“He said _yes,_” Parker declared, and glared at Eliot, who shook his head wearily. He was too tired to tackle Parker’s stubbornness, and now all he was looking forward to was getting the horses cleaned up and fed and then have a hot shower, a decent lunch and run the trip to Alice Springs through his mind to see what security measures he would have to take.

“Okay, okay … we’ll talk about it in a few days, Parker. Once we’re back from Alice an’ Gertie’s had her baby. Just … just be aware that Kevin might not match your expectations, is all.”

Parker gently prodded Kevin with her heels and the appaloosa woke up with a start. Lifting his sparse, wispy tail he defecated, farted again and then sighed, waiting for Parker to make up her mind what to do next.

Eliot cast his eye one final time over the six bulls, and pondered the idea of trying them out sometime after Christmas. If nothing else it would take his mind off Gertie and Ponomarenko, and he felt he could do with the exercise. A couple of the bulls looked particularly promising. He would have to dig out his bull rope and check it for damage and give it an initial clean. Maybe Lizzie would like to help, he thought.

Backing up Ratbag, he led the little group towards the big gate leading to the barn entrance, and thought about his day as Parker plied Jacko with endless questions about campdrafting and the children both told Parker she was awesome, which she didn’t deny. Yep, he thought. There was very, _very_ definitely somethin’ wrong with Parker. _And_ Kevin.

And growling a warning at Ratbag as the horse tried to scrape him off against the fence while Jacko opened the gate, Eliot wandered through into the homestead yard as the midday sun baked the red earth and the cicadas sang in the shimmering haze of the bush.

* * *

The following morning, Wapanjara was a hive of activity.

Packing had been done the night before, and once breakfast was over, cooked by Nate and Mei so that Effie could have time to get organised for her first trip outside Wapanjara for over a decade, Doris and Bernadette were laden with cases and ready for the two-hour drive to Tennant Creek. There the ‘borrowed’ cargo ‘plane awaited them for the hour-long flight to Alice Springs.

Hardison had had a blast organising the trip. There were various errands to undertake with regard to equipment for the two cattle stations, but the rest of the short, two-day visit was intended for pleasure, and he had included several things that he knew Lizzie and Kip would enjoy.

Charlie had told Kip that they would also be going on the trip during dinner the night before. It had been several months since the death of Alice, Charlie’s adored wife and Kip’s mother, and everyone had thought the couple of days away would do both of them good, so Kip, after letting out a shriek of delight that set dingoes howling from miles away, hugged Lizzie and shot off to the nearby bungalow he shared with his father to pack things for the journey.

Now he stood on the veranda, his backpack slung on his shoulders and his fluffy goanna Bert tucked under one arm, and waited for Effie.

_Everybody_ was waiting for Effie.

Hardison and Nate were double-checking that everything was loaded, while everyone else stood about on the veranda. Eliot could hear the little cook muttering to herself in her room next to the kitchen, and his patience was wearing thin. He finally stalked to the door and banged on it impatiently.

“_Dammit_, Effie! We got a plane to catch! Hurry up will ya?”

He raised his fist to hammer again on the door when it opened suddenly, and Effie emerged.

Eliot’s eyebrows raised in sudden surprise.

Instead of her usual drab grey dress, Effie wore what she had obviously decided was her best frock. It was short-sleeved and gloriously floral, bright and cheerful and roomy. She wore her most comfortable shoes so that her bunions didn’t complain too much, and she carried an enormous handbag, which Eliot noted appeared suspiciously heavy.

“Stop gettin’ your knickers in a twist, you mongrel!” she rasped, “I’m coming, I’m coming!” Reaching out to the chest of drawers she lifted her old RAAF slouch hat and jammed it on her head. She scowled at Eliot. “Righto, you bodgie! My bag’s by the bed. I’ll be in the ute!” she said, and pushing past Eliot she stumped onto the veranda, past the group of people awaiting her appearance and made her way down the steps. She opened Doris’s passenger door, clambered into the seat, shut the door and glared at the faces staring back at her.

“Well?? Wotcha waiting for, you dopey drongos? I got a bloody rotisserie to buy!” she growled. And placing her handbag on her lap, she settled down to wait for everyone else.

Nate blinked as though awakening from a deep sleep.

“Um … right. Okay … you heard the lady. Let’s go, people! Apparently we have a bloody rotisserie to buy!”

Eliot followed everybody down the veranda steps, carrying Effie’s old leather suitcase and complaining bitterly as he dragged it over to Bernadette and heaved it into one of the storage bins.

“Jeez, Eff! What the hell have you got in here??” he demanded, “bricks??”

“None of your bloody business!” Effie retorted, and pointedly ignored Eliot’s mutterings.

Minutes later, everyone was aboard and ready to go. Jo peered in at Charlie, who was driving Doris.

“You enjoy yourself boy,” she said softly. “I think the break will do you and Kip good. Don’t worry about us. We’ll be just grand.”

Charlie eyed her doubtfully.

“Are you sure? I mean, Kip can go –“

“No, Charlie!” Soapy said, grinning. “We’ll be absolutely fine. And anyway, we can chat on the video link tonight. Just don’t forget the two generators we ordered, hey? Oh, and don’t forget to have a decko at the bulldozer we were thinking about. And while you’re at it, see if you can find a decent veterinary fridge –“

“For goodness sake, Soapy, let them go, will you?” Jo interjected with mock exasperation, “or else they’re not going to get there at all!”

Charlie patted Jo’s hand where it lay on the window rim, and winked.

“See you in a couple of days,” he said. “Behave yourselves!”

And waving at Mei where she stood watching on the veranda, he started Doris’s engine, and both vehicles drove out of the yard, past the ancient gum tree which guarded the gateway, and then headed up the incline and past the stringybarks, following the dirt road which led to the Stuart Highway.

As the vehicles disappeared in a miasma of red dust and shimmering heat, Soapy draped his arm over Jo’s shoulders and kissed her auburn-silver curls.

“Well, old girl. We’re on our own for the first time in years. It’ll feel a bit wonky for a little while, hey? Without Effie?”

Jo smiled up at her husband.

“Well, not quite on our own, love. We have our daughter and grandchildren to keep us company,” she added as she saw Mei lift Rose into her arms as Jamie wriggled happily about on his blanket on the veranda floor. Jo rested her head on Soapy’s shoulders. “Oh, Soapy! I never thought I’d get the chance to say those words. _Ever_.”

Soapy squeezed his wife affectionately.

“So, why don’t we go and sit with our daughter and our babbies and have a cuppa,” he murmured. “After all, Jacko’s dealing with the crew so we have the rest of the day to ourselves.” He sighed. “I think we need cake,” he said firmly.

Jo kissed Soapy’s cheek, which made him smile.

“Cake for breakfast it is,” she agreed. “Chocolate. With sprinkles.”

And turning toward the house, the two of them strolled back to their family hand in hand in the morning sunshine.

* * *

The one-hour flight to Alice Springs went smoothly, if a little noisily.

Young Kip Jakkamarra made the most of his first aeroplane flight, and spent his time with Lizzie peering through windows and shouting out to his father about all the things he could see. He became even more gleeful when Nate took him forward to the cabin to see the pilot, and he was invited to sit in the co-pilot’s seat with the earphones on.

But soon the Cessna was lowering in the cloudless sky, and Kip and Lizzie gazed at the distant MacDonnell Ranges, hazy in the heat. Kip gasped as the ‘plane banked over the boneyard, the last resting place for dozens of old aeroplanes, beyond which the great, red sand dunes of the Simpson Desert glimmered hotly to the south-east. Lizzie let out a yell of delight when she spotted a small mob of feral camels in the scrubland leading away from faint tracks among the grey-green scrub which held the dunes in place.

Alice Springs airport was small but busy. The two runways dealt with mostly internal flights, and it was here the Cessna would wait in a hangar until the team was ready to head back to Tennant Creek, laden with purchases and hopefully a bunch of more relaxed people.

A minibus awaited them, which made Eliot growl a little because the thing wasn’t particularly solid and it had far too many windows, but he rode shotgun while Charlie drove the seven miles or so into the centre of the sprawl of Alice Springs. It took nearly an hour to find the bungalow where they were staying, and all the while Eliot tirelessly checked every set of traffic lights and crossings, his sharp eyes raking faces and other vehicles constantly to make sure they weren’t being followed.

Lying within a plot of tree-huddled land on an anonymous, urban street, the roomy bungalow was reclusive, luxurious and secure. With no immediate neighbours, it sat in a neat, flower-laden garden draped around an oval pool, the water blue and still in the sunlight.

“Where the hell did you find this place?” Nate asked, impressed by the standard of the accommodation. It was obviously a rental property or something similar. The design was tasteful, expensive and artistic, but the house was obviously not lived in on a permanent basis.

The children, however, weren’t interested in interior design. They went yelling from room to room, deciding which of the five bedrooms was theirs, and it was quickly decided that they would share the mezzanine set into the high, vaulted ceiling. It contained comfortable beds, their own television and lots of room to sprawl and giggle and annoy the adults.

Hardison dumped his backpack on the floor and took in the plush interior.

“It’s technically a corporate let, Nate. Or … it _was_.” He grinned, his dark eyes sparking with mischief.

“Oh, Hardison … what did you do??” Sophie whispered.

Hardison bridled at the intimation he had done something untoward.

“Hey! All I did was take advantage of a bankruptcy sale, Soph! This place used to belong to Dartford Racers. This was a tax write-off for Hardy Bushman, sayin’ he used it for clients, but really it was a hidey-hole away from his business in Sidney. When the dumb schmuck went to prison, his company an’ holdings were sold off an’ I thought the house would come in handy … y’know … for the new team.” Hardison feigned innocence. “Maybe. Or us. _For business_,” he added hopefully, looking around at his compatriots. Nate was sure butter would not have melted in the young man’s mouth.

“I like the high ceilings,” Parker said as she perused the beamed vaults.

Hardison nodded benignly.

“Don’t you worry babe,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, “I’ll be installin’ places for your rigs as soon as I got the other stuff done,” and dug out his laptop.

“What other stuff?” Eliot rasped impatiently. He was trying to keep an ear open as the children explored the rest of the house, and he wasn’t happy about them being out of sight even though Charlie had wandered outside to check the perimeter.

“One of the things I want to do tonight is finish up the security system an’ link it to Wapanjara,” Hardison continued, and gestured at some boxes stacked in the entrance hall, all of which appeared to contain electronic equipment.

Well, that was a situation Eliot could live with. He felt the tension in his chest loosen a little.

“Finish, you said? You’ve already got some of it in place?”

Hardison nodded, understanding Eliot’s concerns.

“Yep. The perimeter sensors are in place, an’ I got both regular high-end cameras an’ a whole bunch of camouflaged infrared an’ heat sensor-y hoo-hah just ready to calibrate an’ bring on-line. The place has its own secure, encrypted server, an’ I got sub-links piggy-backed onto an Australian spy satellite monitored outta Pine Creek.” Hardison let loose a snicker of derision. “What the Aussie secret service don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” he added. “It’d take ‘em a month of Sundays to find anythin’, even if they ever suspected there was stuff there that shouldn’t be.”

Nate shook his head in wonder.

“Hardison, sometimes you scare me. You know that, right?”

Hardison shrugged.

“Gotta be safe, Nate. Gotta be safe.”

Silence reigned for a moment or two, all of them acknowledging the truth of Hardison’s words.

“C’mon, you bludgers!” Effie snapped, gimping out of the bedroom she had decided was hers, and dumping her handbag on the pristine surface of the marble-topped kitchen island, she dug about in it and pulled out what looked like an extendible stick. “I want my rotisserie before you buggers find us somewhere nice for lunch, so can we get going?”

“Where the hell did you get that?” Eliot growled and waggled a finger at the little cook. “Those things are illegal here, Eff!”

Effie held up the black telescopic cosh and grimaced.

“Really?” she said, and let loose an evil smile. “I got it from a friend,” she added, and extended the cosh just to check that it worked properly. She waved it about for a moment, gauging the heft and reach of the weapon. Deeming it fit for purpose, she collapsed the black steel shaft and stowed it again in her handbag. “Nobody touches my nippers!” she declared, and defied anyone to argue with her.

Sophie stared at Effie for a second or two and then turned to Nate.

“I want one of those, Nate,” she said, and her brows drew down defiantly. She turned then to Eliot. “Eliot, I want one of those! You know where to get these things. Get me one, please.”

Eliot pinched the brow of his nose in irritation and shook his head.

“You people … you’re gonna be the death of me, I swear!” he grumbled, and dropping his small backpack on the couch, he wiped a hand over his face and sighed. “Parker! Get off the damn kitchen surface! It ain’t hygienic with your damn boots all over the place!” He sniffed. “There’s somethin’ _wrong_ with you,” he muttered, and looking up the wooden stairs to the mezzanine, he let out a yell.

“Hey, you two!! Less noise, an’ we gotta go! _Now!_”

He heard Lizzie and Kip emit explosive giggles of delight, and then the two children almost stumbled down the open-plan steps to the entrance hall, hats in place and Bert and Cec each tucked under their owner’s arm. Both children were almost aglow with excitement.

Charlie arrived from his tour of the enormous walled garden and nodded at Eliot. The place was secure and safe enough for now until Hardison finished his electronic wizardry.

“I want ice cream!” Parker breathed in Eliot’s ear, which made him twitch. Even after all these years, she could still get the drop on him once in a while. Nate grinned at Eliot’s obvious discomfort, and touched Sophie’s arm.

“Are you ready for some retail therapy?” he asked, but before she could answer Eliot straightened, alarmed.

“Wait. _What?_” He shook his head, and gestured at the whole group. “Nope. No splittin’ up. We either all go together or we don’t go at all,” he said savagely and his eyebrows drew down into a patent Spencer Death Glare. “If you think I’m gonna run myself into an early grave tryin’ to keep an eye on you fools as you head off into the wild blue yonder on your own, then you’re friggin’ _delusional!_”

Effie blatantly ignored Eliot’s outsized protective streak, and rummaging about in her voluminous handbag, she brought out what appeared to be a couple of old socks filled with sand. She tossed one to Sophie, who only just managed to catch it, and offered the other to Parker, who shook her head with a smile.

“I’ve brought Mister Zappy,” she hummed happily. “He has new batteries and everything, so he’s ready to go!” she added, and pulled a neat little taser from her backpack.

Effie, who obviously approved wholeheartedly of Mister Zappy, gave the young woman a wolfish grin. Sophie swung the heavy sock, knotted at one end, gauging the weight and heft of the makeshift cosh. A slow, happy smile spread over her beautiful features, and she slid the sock into her shoulder bag.

Nate watched his wife with awe and then turned to Effie.

“What about us men? Don’t we get anything?” he asked, feeling a little left out.

Effie let out a guffaw of derision.

“Don’t be such bloody wimps!” she rasped, “any bastard that comes after us’ll be focusing on you blokes, and you’re perfectly able to bash heads, clever-clogs. You distract ‘em, and they’ll ignore us, y’see. All they’ll see is a pretty clothes-horse, a skinny little blonde and a fat old lady with bad feet. They won’t be expecting us to give ‘em a whack on the noggin or a bash in the goolies with a sap. Anyway, I only brought two.” Effie pulled back her lips in what apparently was meant to be a snarling grin. She offered the sock to Hardison. “Here, sunbeam. On second thoughts, stick that in a pocket. It might come in handy, hey?”

Hardison numbly took the hefty sand-filled sock and frowned.

“Eff … I don’t need this. I can take care of myself,” he grumbled, flexing his free fist, “I can throw a punch!” He ignored Eliot’s snort and turned to stare at the hitter. “Hey! I’ve saved your sorry butt a time or two, man!”

“Dream on, Hardison!” Eliot taunted, “anyway … all you got do is give ‘em a sock on the jaw, huh.” He chuckled and gave the hacker the leery grin the young man detested with a vengeance. “Get it? A _sock on the jaw?_”

“Har-de-har-har,” Hardison deadpanned, “sooo funny. Yeah, right_._” he scoffed, absently rubbing the healed knife wound in his left shoulder, and then thought about it. Maybe a sock-cosh might be useful. He slipped it into his bag alongside his laptop. “If it stops me takin’ _another_ knife for you, then hell, why not?” he said, his handsome face aloof.

“Don’t you start that ‘I took a knife for you’ crap, you idiot!” Eliot rasped, “Hadan meant to stick you with it in the first place!” His lip curled. “Serves you right for pissin’ her off –“

“Are we _going_ now??” Kip asked, standing next to his father and looking exasperated. “Grandpa Soapy said we had to look at a bulldozer!” he added eagerly, and Lizzie nodded, backing up her friend.

“Bulldozers are _cool!_” she said, and hugged Cec to her chest, breathless with anticipation. “Can we sit in it?”

Eliot looked around at these people he loved and would die for.

“You people drive me friggin’ _nuts_,” he declared with a finality that made them smile, and turning on his heel, he led them all out into dappled sunlight and the promise of a busy day.

* * *

The ensuing argument in the minibus lasted a mere two minutes and forty-seven seconds precisely.

It quickly became obvious to Eliot that the group had no intention of being herded _en masse_ around Alice Springs just so that the hitter could keep them under his hawk-like gaze. So, with a lot of growling, scowls, finger-waggling and dire warnings of lethal consequences if anyone – especially the children – did anything even remotely dumb, it was decided that Sophie and Nate would have a Lizzie-free morning to finish their Christmas shopping and explore the vibrant centre of indigenous art in this heart of Australia. Hardison and Parker would accompany Effie to the huge retail warehouse to look not only at rotisseries but also appliances for the new kitchen at Alinjirri. It was no surprise to anyone when the children decided they would accompany Eliot and Charlie to look over a nearly-new bulldozer needed for both cattle stations.

Eliot ran the logistics through his mental ‘just-how-dangerous-can-it-get’ calculator, deemed the plan barely workable but the best he could do under the circumstances, and nodded reluctantly.

By the time Charlie had found the warehouse where Effie would choose her rotisserie, the decision was made.

Hardison helped Effie out of the bus and waited for Parker to join them. Effie straightened to her full five feet in height, stuck out her bristly chin and hefted her voluminous handbag. Her RAAF hat sat raffishly on her grey hair, and her muddy eyes gleamed in anticipation.

“Right, you two!” she declared to Hardison and Parker. “Let’s see if we can make these sales buggers dance to the beat of our bloody drum!”

And off she went, her bunions not slowing her down in the least.

Parker poked Hardison, who was standing watching Effie’s back as the little cook marched through the automatic doors.

“C’mon,” she said with a grin. “I think this is going to be fun!” And she headed happily after Effie.

“Man,” Hardison pondered, clutching his laptop to his chest, “this is goin’ to be a frikkin’ car wreck.” He beamed. “_Effie’s on a roll!_”

And off he went, wondering just what Effie was planning, and strode after Effie and Parker.

“God help the sales staff,” Sophie whispered, and then tugged Nate’s sleeve. “C’mon, you. I have shopping to do. I hope your arms are up to it,” she added, her perfect lips curved into an impish smile.

Nate closed his eyes and resigned himself to his fate.

“Oh joy.” Opening one eye, he perused Eliot. “It’s a good job Alice isn’t that big a place. With luck, she’ll run out of places to shop.” He pointed along the street. “Just along there, right?” Seeing Eliot’s curt nod, he took Sophie’s arm and entwined it with his. “We’ll see you all at the restaurant. Come along, dear,” he added, sounding suspiciously like Soapy Munro, and tugging Sophie along the wide street, the pair of them disappeared around a corner.

Eliot chewed his lip for a second, and then decided worrying wasn’t getting a bulldozer looked-at, so gesturing at the two children to get back in the minibus, he had a quick peruse of the area but saw nothing to alarm him and send his mental sirens into overdrive.

“C’mon, Charlie. Let’s go look at this bulldozer. And you two!” He pointed at the children as they fastened their safety belts, “You stay close, y’hear me?? No wanderin’ about, no runnin’ haywire or lookin’ at stuff without us. You see anythin’ hinky you let us know, okay?”

Kip’s eyes widened.

“You mean … like a spy, or a ninja or … or a …” he struggled a little, and thought hard.

“A bad guy,” Lizzie whispered conspiratorially.

Kip nodded vigorously.

“Yeah! A bad guy!” he reiterated, and both children stared at Eliot with expectant looks.

Eliot ran his fingers through his hair, his patience quota almost used up for the day.

“Yeah … bad guys,” he grunted, and ignoring Charlie’s chuckle of amusement, he got into the passenger seat, slammed the door shut and scowled at no-one in particular.

Charlie was still grinning as he put the minibus into gear and drove around the corner and into the heavy Christmas traffic.

* * *

The bulldozer turned out to be exactly _not_ what they wanted. Advertised as fully serviced and in good working order, the dealer had not mentioned the worn sprockets, and when Charlie crawled about looking at the undercarriage, he stood up and shook his head at Eliot.

“This bugger’s been working near the sea, hey?” he asked the salesman, a slippery-looking fellow with a thin comb-over. “The chassis’s almost eaten through near the axles ‘cause of the salt and the fuel tank’s full of bloody dents! What the hell has this thing been doing?”

The saleman let out a blustering huff and began to prattle on about regular servicing and how the machine had been well-maintained. Charlie in his turn, knowing the salesman was trying to out-talk him simply because he was an aborigine, swallowed his annoyance at the bigotry and began to explain exactly what was wrong with the bulldozer.

Eliot left him to it. The salesman didn’t know that Charlie was a highly trained mechanic and had been working with heavy machinery since he was a boy and knew the failings of such vehicles. Charlie Jakkamarra didn’t need any help from Eliot as he told the salesman the price was twice what the machine was worth, and that he wouldn’t touch the thing with a bargepole. The children stood by and watched, mesmerised, as Charlie took the salesman’s feeble declarations and eruditely destroyed them.

Eliot’s attention began to wander, and he looked around the huge sales lot, running an eye over the lines of bulldozers, tractors and farming equipment. There was nothing that really caught his fancy, but just as he was about to butt in and growl at the salesman, he saw the mere glimpse of something large hidden at the rear of the lot among older, bargain-basement tractors. His brow furrowed, and intrigued, he took a few steps to his right so that he could see more of the vehicle. He studied it for a moment or two, and then tapped Lizzie on the shoulder.

“C’mon, you two. You’re with me. Charlie? Back in a minute,” he called, and the station manager waved a lazy hand as he began to explain to the forlorn-looking salesman about the problem with bushed sprockets.

The children, who were a little reluctant to miss Charlie’s take-down of the salesman, wandered after Eliot as he made his way over to the still-partially hidden machine.

It turned out to be a veritable beast of a bulldozer. It was big, menacing and painted an anonymous beige, and the cab was covered in heavy plating. The door too was reinforced, and the caterpillar tracking was military standard. It looked as though it hadn’t been driven for a while. Brown grass stuck up between the track plates and the whole vehicle was covered in a film of reddish dust.

“Wow!!” Kip whispered, and tugged at Eliot’s sleeve. “Can we have that one?”

Eliot crouched down beside the tracking, and studied it closely.

Kip and Lizzie peered at the tracking too, scrutinising it carefully.

“Hmmm …” Eliot said.

“Hmmm …” said Kip and Lizzie, both of them nodding sagely.

Eliot straightened and walked slowly around the bulldozer, running a hand over the blade connections, looking for rust and wear. Kip and Lizzie grabbed hold of the edge of the huge bucket and tried to waggle it. It didn’t move, although their combined weights would have made little impact on the formidable span of metal.

“Any rust over there?” Eliot asked, pointing at the teeth, and the children checked each and every metal spike on the lower edge of the bucket, to see if they were loose. Every one of them was declared clean and rust-free. Eliot moved on to the hydraulics. While there was oily gunk rimming the links there didn’t appear to be any leaks. Eliot tried the cab door, and finding it unlocked, he clambered inside and perused the interior. The cladding on the cab had protected it from the worst of the dust, and while the gear levers, steering wheel and seat were worn with use, they had obviously been well-cared for.

Eliot leaned out of the door.

“Kip!” he yelled. “Go get your dad! I think we got us a ‘dozer!”

“_YES!”_ Kip yelled, punching the air, and the little boy ran off to get his father.

Lizzie watched Eliot clamber down from the cab, and she clutched Cec to her chest while studying Eliot with round, excited eyes.

“Can we buy this one??” she gasped, and ran a tentative hand over the huge, military-standard tracking. “She’s beautiful!!”

Eliot hunkered down beside her and looked at the bulldozer, thinking.

“Maybe, ‘Lizbeth Grace. Maybe. See, she’s ex-Australian Army. See the heavy plating and the colour? That kinda brownish colour? It’s sand-coloured for a reason. It means she’s been used in the desert. … it’s a very distinctive camouflage. She may look a bit beat-up, but she’ll have been looked after and serviced, and anythin’ wore-out replaced. She’s just here because she’s too old and sold on even if she’s in good workin’ order.”

Lizzie frowned and patted the bulldozer’s track plates.

“But … but she’s still okay, right? She can come home with us and work at Wapanjara? Grandpa will look after her properly, won’t he?”

Eliot suddenly flashed Lizzie his Lizzie-smile, the half-hitch of his lips that made his eyes crinkle with humour.

“Well, don’t set your heart on her just yet. Charlie needs to give her the once-over and we don’t even know if her engine’s workin’. But if Charlie says yes and the price is right then maybe … maybe we’ll buy her.”

Lizzie let out a little squeak of delight and flung herself at Eliot, hugging him from behind, her head burrowed into the hollow of his neck.

“Good-oh!!” she whispered, thrilled, and patted Eliot’s chest with her Cec-holding hand. “I’m going to call her Myrtle!”

To be continued …

* * *

* CWA – The Country Women’s Association. Various individual groups have been around since the 1920s. During World War II, the CWA provided meals for the troops at Tennant Creek, their efforts being rated one of the best voluntary wartime services in Australia. CWA members also made camouflage nets and knitted balaclavas and socks for the troops. They still are a force to be reckoned with in the 21st century, supporting everything from education, women’s rights, and children’s health and wellbeing. Members are also renowned for baking a damn good scone.


	5. The Flamin' Wonder of the Settin' Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to Alice Springs, kangaroos, and a mysterious woman, all accompanied by a fair amount of worrying.
> 
> The culinary equipment section of the warehouse is lovingly based upon the premises of E. Dehillerin, Paris. Founded in 1820, the store is the greatest of all purveyors of everything required by the amateur or professional chef. If Christian Kane ever visited (and perhaps he already has), I suspect it would be very difficult to get him to leave. The place is an Aladdin’s cave of cookery equipment. I’m also not kidding about the price of the stove.
> 
> As always, all Warumungu translations are at the end of the chapter.

* * *

In the blistering sun and heat of noon, Lizzie and Kip impatiently pulled Eliot and Charlie through the automatic doors of the retail warehouse, ready to retrieve Effie, Hardison and Parker.

Eliot fervently hoped that the place was still in one piece and that the entire Alice Springs police force had not been called in to deal with the three of them. He was heartened to see no police vehicles with lights flashing parked outside. He was not, however, prepared for the sight which greeted him as the doors whispered shut behind him.

A rotisserie, large and gleaming, sat near a row of high-end industrial stoves. Beside it sat an enormous double-fronted steel refrigerator, a huge dish-washer and two large, glass-fronted fridges with lockable doors. Several stainless steel culinary work stations were stacked alongside the dish-washer.  
  
In front of the row of stoves stood Hardison, looking studious behind a pair of black-rimmed spectacles, laptop open and resting on a forearm as he muttered to himself. Parker, dressed in black, arms crossed and glowering, hovered on the other side of Effie, who sat, ensconced in a beautifully-upholstered computer chair, perusing the row of stoves. Her handbag rested on her lap, somehow lending her a vague but indisputable air of menace.

In front of Effie hunched a sweating salesman armed with an untidy pile of brochures, doing his best to field Effie’s rapid-fire questions about each stove. She asked about its build and its temperature control. She demanded to know about oven dimensions, reliability, accessories and much, much more, and with every acceptable answer he gave the salesman almost bowed, as though Effie was a queen and her word was everything. A spotty young trainee assistant hovered behind Effie, and at Parker’s curt nod, he carefully wheeled Effie forward to the next stove. Then Effie and Hardison would have a whispered discussion and the whole interrogation began again.

“Wait a sec, ‘Lizbeth Grace,” Eliot said, resting a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder.

“But I want to tell everyone about Myrtle!” she replied, but she saw the smile hovering on Eliot’s lips and lapsed into silence.

“Eff’s enjoying herself,” the hitter continued, “I gotta go buy a gift. C’mon. You can help.”

Charlie and Kip followed behind as Eliot led the way through the warehouse to the accessories section, and they found themselves in an enormous, delightfully cluttered room lined and criss-crossed with wooden, boxed shelves which reached to the ceiling and were stacked with everything anyone could ever want in a kitchen.

Gleaming copper pans winked in the light and rows and rows of enamelled pie dishes sat like Russian dolls in ever diminishing sizes, overseen by open drawers full of everything from a bewildering choice of ladles to larding needles. Little sturdy mussel pots lay like black, armoured turtles alongside sprawling heaps of wooden-handled balling spoons.

As they walked through the small doorway into this magical place, Lizzie thought she heard Eliot’s breath hitch and he paused for a moment as he took in the sight before him. She looked up at him and saw the reverence written large on his visage.

“Are you alright, Eliot?” she asked, suddenly worried that he was ill.

The light made Eliot’s eyes reflect a hot cobalt blue, and he smiled a smile that Lizzie knew in her soul was one of pure joy.

“God, I love this place!” he said softly, and Lizzie would never forget the pleasure she saw on his face that day.

For nearly an hour they wandered the labyrinthine shelved aisles, the children constantly finding things and asking Eliot what they were for, and with the patience the Cherokee wolves in his heart gave him, he answered every question with humour and passion. Charlie watched and quietly laughed and enjoyed every moment.

Eliot knew by the pile of equipment he had seen stacked beside the rotisserie that Effie had already chosen everything needed for the new kitchen at Alinjirri, but he also knew she would not have picked anything for herself. So, he had decided, there was something he would like to buy for her.

After a long discussion, the children decided that Effie would prefer a copper fish kettle to a steel one, intended to replace the one with a huge dent in it, put there by a stray bullet months earlier by the late and unlamented Chong Bun-Tsui. The stubborn little cook managed at a pinch to poach large barramundi fillets in it, but everyone knew its days were numbered.

Lizzie and Kip tried to talk Eliot into also buying a huge, diamond-shaped turbot poacher, but Eliot shook his head and explained that the big Atlantic turbot was not a fish you found in the rivers of the Northern Territory. As compensation, the children found a large stock pot that they decided to give Effie as a Christmas present.

But it was time to go, and as the children laboriously carried their purchases towards the checkout, Eliot stopped for a moment as a thought hit him.

“Back in a sec,” he said to Charlie, and returned to the rows of equipment. Hunting around, he let out a grunt of satisfaction as he discovered what he was looking for. He joined the children ten minutes later, and paid for all of their purchases. Then it was finally time to retrieve Effie and her two ‘sidekicks’.

* * *

They found Effie and her entourage at the very end of the row of stoves, looking at a big double-oven with six burners and a griddle. It wasn’t the most expensive stove in the store, but it apparently fulfilled all of Effie’s requirements. They had been joined by a slender, impeccably dressed woman who looked as tough as nails. But right now she was listening to Effie intently.

“ –and I’m expectin’ a good deal, y’hear? If you think I’m payin’ your bloody prices, you’ve got another thing coming, you bludgers!” Effie growled, and Eliot could sense the glee in her voice.

“Ah, what Ms. Mcphee is saying,” Hardison interrupted smoothly, “is that payment will be by instant bank transfer and will come with an acknowledgement that there will be recommendations – _internationally_, I may add – regarding the excellent service she has encountered from your good selves,” he continued, and eyed the woman who, it seemed, was the owner of the business.

The woman looked bewildered.

“But … I’m sorry, I don’t –“

“Ms. Mcphee prefers discretion, ma’am,” Hardison continued as though taking the woman into his confidence, “her … connections … are, shall we say … “ he cackled to himself in amusement, “… _connected_, if you get my drift –“

“Enough!” Parker barked, eyes sparking. “That information’s classified!” She scowled at Hardison, who looked suitably chastened.

“Apologies, Number Seven!” he stammered, and shut his mouth with two fingers making zipping motions.

“Too right, sunbeam!” Effie rasped at Hardison, and nodded at Parker as though congratulating her on her astuteness. “Well, you!” she turned her gimlet gaze on the rather disconcerted store owner, “Wotcha say? Are you goin’ to do me a decent deal or not?”

The woman’s eyes flicked from Effie to Hardison and then to Parker, who stood beside Effie like the guardian she obviously was. She glanced again at the purchases, all wrapped in protective foam sheeting and loaded onto pallets.

“I trust you can deliver to Alice Springs Airport by nine tomorrow morning?” Parker snapped. “We have a private cargo ‘plane waiting.”

The woman’s mouth opened and then shut again.

“Um …” she stumbled, and Effie sighed.

“You don’t want the business?” the little cook said with irritation, and tugged Hardison’s sleeve. “Find me someplace else, sunbeam. These buggers obviously ain’t got any idea what they’re missing out on,” she continued, and heaved herself to her feet, Hardison helping her up. “I’m off!” she declared, and began to stump her way towards the door. She saw Eliot and Charlie, children in tow, waiting beside the sales desk, and she let loose a sly wink. Lizzie and Kip giggled.

“Twenty percent!” the disconcerted owner said in obvious desperation. “I can do a twenty percent discount!"

Effie slowed down a little, but didn’t turn around.

“And … and I’ll throw in the rotisserie _gratis_ as a thank-you for the business!” The woman added eagerly, knowing the large amount of money Effie and her compatriots had spent in the past several hours was a deal not to be jeopardized. The stove alone was nearly ten thousand dollars-worth of equipment. The discount she could deal with. “Your order will be on the ‘plane by close of business today.”

Effie stopped, straightened, and turned around. A terrifyingly grim grin graced her pudgy face.

“You got yourself a deal, chuckles!” she said, and patted her handbag as though it was a living thing. “Pay the lady, sunbeam!” she ordered Hardison, who smiled sweetly at the woman and the perspiring salesman. 

Parker gave the very young and obviously shaken assistant an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture and a glare through narrowed eyes, and stalked off after Effie. The boy’s mouth dropped open with unabashed admiration.

Hardison smiled his favourite shit-eating smile and touched the woman on the elbow.

“Listen … just to sweeten the deal, there’s somethin’ else I want to add to the order. Come with me …” and led her through to her office. The salesman ignored his lovelorn assistant and wiped his sweat-sheened face with a voluminous handkerchief and thanked God he had lived through the trauma with his hide intact.

“Ready to eat?” Eliot asked as Lizzie and Kip began to chatter about Myrtle.

Effie nodded, and heaved a sigh of pleasure.

“That was bleedin’ ripper! That old bint has a reputation for rackin’ up her prices and conning her customers. It was just lovely havin’ a bit of fun at her expense. Serves her right!” she hissed, and slipped an arm through Eliot’s. “C’mon, you young mongrel. Me old feet are bloody killin’ me and me guts is thinking me throat’s been cut. I hope this place we’re goin’ to serves decent tucker!”

And with two happy children yammering on like a pair of galahs and with Parker and Charlie behind them, they emerged into the blinding sun and climbed into the minibus to wait for Hardison.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon was spent relaxing by the pool.

Kip and Lizzie screamed and splashed and flung themselves into the water from the small diving board, followed by Parker, who did handstands before toppling into the pool feet first. Eliot and Charlie joined them, Eliot donning a pair of old cut-off jeans and diving seamlessly into the water. He apparently swam as well as he did everything else.

Nate and Sophie dozed on sun-beds under a huge umbrella. Nate was complaining of a sore back after lugging Sophie’s many purchases around the centre of Alice Springs for three hours. Effie sat reading in the shade, a cup of tea beside her and her RAAF hat on her grey head just in case a stray sunbeam crept through the awning above. Hardison had opted to finish off the security system build. Swimming pools still made him a little leery.

The only interruption was the arrival of several pieces of artwork Sophie had purchased from local indigenous artists and which were intended for the walls of this, their home-from-home in Alice Springs.

It was a pleasant, relaxing few hours and as the sun dropped below the horizon, they all headed to a small Thai restaurant which lay on the outskirts of town. As always, it was one of Eliot’s recommendations, and they were welcomed by the owner who had reserved a table away from the main restaurant and looking out towards the Macdonnell Ranges, now bathed in ever-changing golds and oranges, the shadowed blue of dusk creeping ever-upwards to the peaks of distant hills as they reached into the star-gleam of night.

Despite being in the centre of Australia the restaurant had an enviable reputation for excellent seafood dishes, and even Effie was impressed by the quality of the repast. For her it was a break away from the never-ending job of feeding hungry stockmen, family and always-starving children.

In-between servings there was much small-talk, mostly centred around Lizzy and Kip telling everyone about Myrtle, and for once Eliot allowed himself to relax. He sat back and studied the changing landscape of this land he loved, and let the laughter and conversation wash over him like a balm. The food was delicious and the wine was good, and he delighted in listening to Effie sample everything she could and then try and figure out how it was made. She interrogated the waiters, who instead of being irritated were pleased by the old woman’s passion for the delectable creations placed before her. When the manager came by to check that everything was alright, he was charmed by Effie’s interest. She was even more delighted when she was invited into the kitchens by the manager, who obviously knew Eliot and was happy to share his love of cooking with anyone who was a friend of the Oklahoman.

As the evening drew to a close and coffee was ordered, Eliot, replete and relaxed, studied his people. All were full of good food and had obviously had an excellent day. He looked intently at Charlie. His brother in everything but blood was tired, it was true, but for the first time since his beloved Alice had died, the strain on Charlie’s handsome face had gone and his dark eyes were soft with happiness. Kip sat beside him and it was obvious both children were sleepy after a long and very exciting day. Kip’s eyelids were drooping and Eliot thought Charlie might have to carry his son to the minibus.

Eliot felt the familiar ache in his chest when he thought of Alice. He had loved her like a sister, and the guilt of not being there to protect her from the evil that was Chong Bun-Tsui nagged at him. But there was nothing he could do about it, and so his job now was to keep Charlie and especially Kip safe, and to help them both move on from Alice’s loss. It was what she would have wanted. As always, just for a moment or two, he faintly heard her throaty laugh echo in his heart. God, how he missed her!

A waitress arrived with coffee, and looking up and smiling his thanks, Eliot’s mind was suddenly distracted by the young woman. Her returning smile was wide and unaffected, and he idly thought she was from somewhere like Malaysia or the Philippines, her black hair swept back and her beautiful complexion glowing in the muted lighting of the restaurant. She was lovely, and Eliot would, at any other time, have asked her for a date, but it was when her eyes caught his that he left his words unsaid.

Her eyes were almost golden. A pale, rich amber, they were so unusual that his breath caught in his chest for a moment. Flecked with gold, they gazed at Eliot with obvious appreciation, but the smile died on his lips. She studied him, suddenly unsure, but he quickly plastered the smile back on his face and thanked her for his coffee. She nodded although puzzled a little, and continued to serve coffee to the rest of the adults at the table.

Eliot’s eyes followed her as she made her way back to the bar, and Nate, very full and feeling lazy, cocked an eye at the hitter.

“Pretty girl,” he commented, somewhat unnecessarily.

“Yeah …” Eliot murmured, and Nate frowned, seeing how disconcerted Eliot was.

“You know her?” he asked. “Old flame, maybe?”

Eliot shook his head, still keeping his eye on the waitress.

“Nope. Never met her before.”

Nate leaned over and refilled Lizzie’s glass of pomegranate juice and then returned his gaze to Eliot.

“So … what’s bugging you?”

Eliot didn’t answer immediately but Nate knew from years of knowing his friend to be patient, and he saw Eliot’s brow furrow in that tell-tale way which meant he was turning something important over in his mind. Eliot continued to watch the waitress until she disappeared behind the bar and through the swing door into the kitchen.

When he finally answered Nate’s question he shifted in his chair and turned his coffee cup around in the fingers of his right hand.

“Don’t know yet, Nate … I really don’t know. Just … it’s somethin’ that I’d forgotten about. Somethin’ that happened a lifetime ago, when I was …” he hesitated and then sighed, and Nate could hear the frustration in the man’s voice. “I got some thinkin’ to do an’ then I maybe need to speak to Hardison.” Taking a deep breath, he sipped his coffee and hitched a rueful eyebrow at Nate. “Doesn’t matter. Not right now, anyway.” He allowed his Lizzie-smile to crease his lips as the little girl he protected gave him a happy, weary grin as she sipped her drink. “We’ve got other stuff to think about.”

Nate pursed his lips and nodded.

“Does this have to do with Ponomarenko?” he asked quietly.

Eliot shrugged.

“Maybe. Don’t know yet. It’s just a thought is all. I’ll keep you in the loop, but I got nothin’ right now, Nate. I have to think it through – _if_ there’s anythin’ to think through, that is. And maybe make a call or two.”

Nate glanced at Sophie, laughing at Hardison’s description of Effie’s interrogation of the hapless salesman, and he decided not to mention Eliot’s concerns, especially considering how vague they were right now. It would wait.

Leaving Eliot to his pondering, he joined in the discussion about how Myrtle would arrive at Alinjirri on the back of a huge truck because she wouldn’t fit into the cargo ‘plane. Both Kip and Lizzie wanted to be there when she was unloaded.

Soon they would head back to the bungalow for a good night’s rest, and Nate looked forward to peaceful sleep with Sophie beside him while knowing that Hardison’s security system and Eliot’s protective skills would keep his daughter safe.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when they arrived back at the bungalow. The now-automated entry gates opened silently and surprisingly unobtrusively. Stars hung above the dark edge of the bungalow’s roof as Charlie carried a boneless and sleeping Kip into the house, followed by Sophie gently guiding Lizzie, barely wake, up the stairs to her bed on the mezzanine.

Within half an hour the house was settling into dreamless sleep, apart from one shadowed figure which sat on a padded dining chair, back straight and eyes glittering in the starlight streaming through a skylight into the high vaulted ceiling.

Eliot had changed into boots, dark cargo pants and a black teeshirt. Beside him on a small table to his right lay his Ka-bar knife, unsheathed, its clipped-back blade gleaming dully in the reflected light.

He allowed his breathing to slow and his whole body stilled and relaxed. His eyes became hooded, and his nostrils flared as his senses slowly became attuned to his surroundings. Within minutes he was nothing more than a still, unobtrusive shape in the night, unmoving but acutely aware of the space and air around him. His ears caught the slightest of sounds, and he did not have to rely on his sight to know exactly what was happening around him.

Now, in this world of darkness and danger, he was a wolf in all but blood, and any threat to those he loved would see them face a creature of the night that would instantly deem their lives forfeit.

* * *

It was Effie who rose first as the soft, dove-pink light of dawn crept through the huge glass doors and began to ease back the darkness in the quietness of the big bungalow. Used to being an early riser, she stumped through from her bedroom into the open-plan living space, only to be greeted by the sight of Eliot, still sitting in his chair. For a moment she thought he was asleep, but that impression was instantly shattered as blue eyes turned to look at her as they narrowed into a gentle smile.

“Mornin’, Eff,” he said quietly, lifting his knife and sliding it into its sheath. “Sleep okay?”

“Better than you, you silly bastard,” she whispered in return. “You been sittin’ there all night?”

Eliot didn’t answer, but got to his feet and stuck the sheathed knife into his belt before grinning at Effie.

“I’ll make tea,” he said and headed for the kitchen, but Effie, despite her bunions, beat him to it.

“Don’t be so bloody daft,” she said as she gently shoved him out of the way. “You’ve been up all night so go get some sleep. The others won’t be about for a couple of hours, so I’ll make brekkie then.”

Eliot watched her as she filled the big electric kettle with water and switched it on.

“Effie, I can get by for a couple of days with no sleep, darlin’, so I’ll be –“

“ –fine, yes, so you like to tell me,” Effie growled, and then she poked Eliot in the arm. “Go on, now! Get some shut-eye, you dopey mongrel. The nippers and the rest of us’ll be dandy, no worries.” She stared at Eliot, who hadn’t moved. She sighed. “Are you bleedin’ _deaf??_” she added, and her muddy eyes narrowed dangerously.

Eliot let out a noise that Effie thought probably indicated irritation, but she could see the tiredness in the hollows of his eyes, as well as a hint of something else. He was worried. Eliot Spencer and worry were constant bedfellows, but for it to show on his face meant that there was more to it than his usual concern over his team. But he did as he was told and turned towards the doors leading out towards the deck beside the pool, intending to stretch out on one of the recliners. A compromise, Effie knew, and she accepted it. She would have been happier if he had gone to bed for a couple of hours, but, she decided, it would have to do. But there was one more thing she needed to know before he settled down.

“Eliot?” she said, her voice a low rasp in the cool early morning air.

Eliot stopped in his tracks. When Effie called him by his given name, he knew whatever was on her mind was deadly serious. He half-turned and cocked an eyebrow at the little woman who thought of him as a son.

“Yeah, Eff?”

“I heard what you said to Nate last night. About Pono-whatsit. Something’s rattling around in your noggin. And you sitting up all night with your knife beside you … is it that bad? Are our nippers in danger?” She narrowed her eyes. “_Is that bastard coming after our nippers??_”

Eliot allowed himself a weary smile.

“Not if I can help it. Anyway, don’t worry. He’s still in Europe as far as I know. It’s just … well, we’re not at Wapanjara an’ I just like to be careful, you know that. And … you’re right up to a point. I have some thinkin’ to do about this woman that’s hired Ponomarenko. It’s a memory that I just can’t put a finger on right now.” He rolled a shoulder to get a kink out of it. “But I will. And soon.”

And not waiting for Effie to reply he wandered outside into the burgeoning dawn, found a recliner and eased his body onto it. Pulling out the sheathed Ka-bar, he placed it on the low table beside him within easy reach. In less than a minute he was sound asleep.

Effie stood and watched him for a few moments, but then the kettle began to boil and she dug out some teabags and a teapot. She dropped the teabags into the pot and poured in the boiling water. As she waited for the tea to steep, she glanced back at Eliot, watching him sleep.

Ponomarenko. _The Confessor_. The very name made her blood boil. And now there was this bloody mystery woman to deal with.

“_Bugger_,” she said, loudly and succinctly. Making her first cup of tea for the day, she settled down on Eliot’s now-vacant chair and waited for the rest of her family to waken to a new day.

* * *

Eliot awoke two hours later on the dot, just in time to join in breakfast with his family. Afterwards Sophie drove Hardison and Nate crazy hanging the beautiful, large canvases she had bought, pictures of animals and dots and swirls of vivid colour all of which told stories of legends and echoed the lives of the people who belonged to this ancient land. Charlie did his best to explain to Lizzie that the paintings weren’t seen by their makers as ‘art’ but as a way of telling stories defining ownership of the knowledge they contained. Lizzie didn’t quite grasp the concept, but she especially loved the painting of stylised crocodiles and kangaroos and emus* sprawled in living colour across a dust-red canvas. For her it was almost alive, and she and Kip sat until it was time to leave staring at it as though the animals would live and breathe upon the canvas if they looked at it long enough.

That morning was spent at a kangaroo sanctuary just outside Alice Springs, where the children were allowed to bottle-feed orphan joeys and were given a tour of The Mob, a group of hand-reared kangaroos unable to be released into the wild. Eliot enjoyed watching Lizzie’s reaction to the place, and she and Kip were both heartbroken on gently being told it was time to leave. But it was at that point they lost Parker.

It didn’t take them long to find her. She was with one of the rangers in the nursery, the place where the pinkies were housed. These were very young, pink-skinned babies still attached to a teat. Hardison was the one who found her sitting cross-legged on the floor of the nursery, very carefully holding a brightly-coloured home-knitted sock to her chest. Inside the sock was the ugliest version of a kangaroo Hardison had ever seen, a bald, pink thing with floppy, useless ears and bulging eyes with the eyelids still fused shut.

Parker was _humming_.

The pinkie was snuggled comfortably against the warmth of Parker’s chest, the vibration of the low hum lulling it into a happy doze, and Hardison would remember for the rest of his life the look of pure joy on Parker’s face. It almost broke his heart when he had to tell her it was time to go.

She sat quietly in the minibus as Charlie drove them to the airport where the Cessna awaited them, purchases now loaded and with everything ready to go. They were flying on to the small airport near _Uluru_, where Eliot and Charlie would show the children the great, red rock which meant so much to the _Pitjantjatjara Anangu_ people.

As the plane took off, Sophie leaned over and touched Parker’s arm. The little thief was so deep in thought that she started, eyes wary and a little nervous.

“Are you alright, Parker?” Sophie asked as she heard Kip let out a shriek of delight, the little boy peering out of the window as the Cessna climbed steeply into the sky.

Parker frowned. Sophie recognised it as the frown Parker wore when something puzzled her. She had seen it on the young woman’s face when she had tried to deal with being a friend with Peggy Millbank, and she had also seen the helpless confusion on Parker’s face when she did her best to understand Eliot’s passion for cooking. Passion and empathy did not come easily to Parker, unless it was about dollar bills.

“Why am I feeling like this?” Parker asked, confusion in every word.

“Feeling like what?” Sophie always did her best to encourage Parker to understand her feelings, knowing how difficult it was for her, especially at moments like this when Parker was feeling unsure of herself.

Parker’s face screwed up as she tried to explain what was going on with her emotions.

“Animals, Sophie_! Animals!_ I … I _like_ Kevin!” she blurted, “I really do! But I _hate_ horses! So why do I suddenly like Kevin? And baby kangaroos? Even though they’re ugly and pink and useless?” Parker flapped her hands at her own chest. “They make me feel … oh, I don’t know … OH! Oh, yes I do! They … they make me feel …” she suddenly found the word she was looking for. “_Smooshy!_ I feel all smooshy in here … in my chest! Why do I feel like that, Sophie? I mean … when Sparky was born and I helped, I felt really, really happy, but then he was little and fluffy and cute like Bunny, but Kevin’s a grown-up horse and he’s bored all the time and he doesn’t like me much, but I like _him!_ So what’s going on with me, Sophie? Huh? I felt bad leaving the sanctuary. I feel sad that there are so many orphan ‘roos. I feel … _mixed up_.”

She stopped, flustered, and then looked bleakly at the grifter. Her confusion was obvious.

Sophie patted Parker’s hand where it lay on the arm of the seat.

“Parker … listen,” she said patiently. “Remember the orphans in Serbia? Remember how you wouldn’t leave any of them? You made us get all of them out of danger?”

Parker snorted.

“Well, yeah! Duh!” she declared.

“And you like foals, right? And you love Gertie, and she loves you too. Remember how excited you were when Eliot told us Gertie was going to have a baby?” Seeing Parker’s face settle into further confusion, she continued hastily, trying not to rattle Parker too much. “Oh, for goodness sake, Parker – remember when Lizzie was born? You couldn’t wait to meet her. She has been a part of your life for seven years, and she adores you. _Kip_ adores you.”

Parker’s face cleared for a moment, and she grinned.

“Kip thinks I’m awesome!” she retorted, remembering fist-bumps and a proud little boy who said Parker could do _anything_.

That made Sophie chuckle.

“Parker … you’re like Eliot in a way. You two … you spent so long not feeling, for different reasons, and it can throw you when feelings come along when you least expect it. And there’s nothing wrong with that. At least you don’t stick forks in people any more, which is progression.” She raised a questioning eyebrow as a thought struck her. “You don’t, do you? Fork people?”

Parker waved a dismissive hand and let out a Parkerish snorkle of derision.

“Noooo … I haven’t done that in years!” she said, shaking her head. “Unless you count that putz from Tulsa who tried to put his hand up my blouse.” She grinned nastily. “I forked him really, _really_ hard!”

Sophie had to allow for that one because the man, a dealer in stolen pet dogs used as bait in dog-fighting rings, had truly deserved his forking, and not only because of his wandering hands. Parker had then tazed the man for a _lot_ longer than was good for him.

“Yes … well … that’s what I mean, Parker. You feel, no matter that you don’t understand sometimes _why_ you feel. And I know you don’t like it when these feelings make you uncomfortable or sad. But that’s okay. And if they make you happy … then just go with it.”

Parker looked doubtful.

“Seriously?”

“Look, if it’s the same feeling you get when someone hands you a million dollars in cash –“ Sophie saw the joy spark in Parker’s eyes at the mention of her favourite thing, “ – then just accept it for what it is. If it makes you feel good, then why not?”

Parker thought about the conversations she had had with Eliot through the years. The talk on the mountain, when he told her how alike they were in that they were the ones who could make the difficult decisions. The decisions the others couldn’t make because he and Parker could put feelings aside and be practical and honest about the outcome. She had also listened to Eliot explain to her how he expressed his passion … his feelings … through the food he cooked for himself and others. Eliot Spencer, the man who for long, violent years had detached himself from feeling _anything_. And now he cooked and growled and cared and loved them all, despite how hard it was for him to deal with the feeling all of that involved.

So, Parker decided, perhaps … perhaps these feelings, whatever they were, were okay. And the baby pinkies really were adorable. Maybe they needed money. Parker had money. _Lots_ of money. Not the banknotes, of course, because she loved those, but perhaps she could give them some jewels. She had plenty to spare, and they were untraceable. The jewels could pay for the pinkies’ upkeep for _years_, and it _was_ Christmas.

Happier now, she sat back in her seat and told Sophie all about the plans she and Kevin had to beat the crap out of every other competitor at the Tennant Creek Campdraft.

* * *

The great whaleback of red sandstone rose out of the arid land, rising to over a thousand feet into a sky beginning to turn from pale, washed-out blue to the beginnings of a stunning sunset.

This was _Uluru_, for sixty thousand years the home of ancestral beliefs and Dreaming trails of the _Pitjantjatjara Anangu_ people. Here lay their laws and their stories, a place for their ceremonies and rites of passage for millennia.

Lizzie followed Eliot up a rise in the land several miles from the huge rock, her hand in his, because she knew how important it was to show respect and both she and Eliot wore their medicine pouches over their hearts. Inside each one were objects which helped them remember who they were in this world, reminders of family and belonging, and both of them belonged heart and soul to this ancient land.

They had parked the rental vehicle at a nearby viewing point and Charlie and Kip led the way. Hardison and Parker walked in the rear with Effie, Parker carrying a camping seat so that Effie could sit down when they reached their destination. Nate and Hardison carried a chill box containing cold drinks to counter the extreme heat.

Charlie reached the brow of the hill and waited, the light wind ruffling his shirt and the mass of dark curls on his head. Kip stood beside him, the little boy’s mouth wide with wonder.

As Eliot slowed to a halt beside Charlie, Lizzie let out a gasp as she saw the massive rock. She tugged on Eliot’s fingers and he looked down at her, his blue eyes sombre in the shadow of his stockman’s hat.

“Can we get closer??” she asked, her voice no more than a hoarse whisper. “It’s … it’s …” but she could not find the words to describe the sight of this magical place.

Eliot shook his head.

“Here’s just fine,” he answered. “Remember what I told you? This is a special place, and we can see pretty well from right where we are. And when the sun sets, you’ll see how special it is.”

“That’s just about now, right?” she said breathlessly.

Eliot’s Lizzie-smile lit up his face.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Anytime now. C’mon.” he pulled her gently to a long seat fashioned from a fallen Mulga tree and sat her down. Kip joined them as Charlie helped Effie up the final part of the incline and set out her chair.

“Man, will you look at that!” Hardison said under his breath as he studied the vast, red mass, the shadows lengthening in the folds of its giant sides.

“Can I climb it?” Parker asked reverently, studying the fall of Uluru’s steep sides and long reaches of smooth rock.

“Nah,” Charlie answered. “You used to be able to do that but all those bloody tourists left litter and worse up there. This is a place that’s sacred, Parker. You understand?”

Eliot wasn’t too sure that she did, but Parker nodded.

“It would be like climbing up the side of a church, or … or a mosque,” she said, and the seriousness in her voice made Charlie smile. “You have to respect the place. I get that. The tribe wouldn’t like it.” She watched _Uluru_ suddenly begin to change in colour as the sun started to go down behind the horizon. “It’s beautiful.”

“That’s one of the reasons we came,” Eliot explained, “plus Charlie wanted Kip an’ ‘Lizbeth Grace to understand how important places like this are to the tribes who own them.”

Eliot sat down on the soft, sandy ground and Lizzie sat beside him, Kip settling beside Lizzie. The two children were handed a soft drink each to keep them hydrated, and everyone else either sat on the old mulga trunk or the ground. Parker found a rock and perched on it, cross-legged, and Eliot watched her as she turned her face to the wind, eyes fixed on _Uluru_, and he thought she was like a creature of the earth and the skies, grown wild and free in this place, her blonde hair whispering in the quiet land.

Effie sat in her camp chair and stilled, her gaze captured by this country she adored, and absorbed the love of her family around her. She had her nippers and she had Eliot’s team, all of whom she loved dearly. And she had Charlie, still grieving for his Alice, but beginning to see a life beyond her loss, for which she was very grateful.

Charlie stood and watched as the great rock began to change colour as the sun dropped lower and lower. Rich peach and gold flowed across the surface of the rock, chased by shadows like hunters tracking an emu, and the sound of the wind echoed in the hollows and dark, hidden creases running down the steep sides. Deep within those hollows and caves were paintings on dry red walls, the Ancestors telling the stories and laws of the people _Uluru_ guarded. Silhouetted against the lowering sun, Charlie Jakkamarra turned, his dark eyes full of the soul-memories of his people. He motioned at _Uluru_, a changeling of the earth, the shadows moving and writhing in the red-gold light.

“They say when _Mala_ people first came here, they found this rock and decided to make it a ceremony place, and raised _Ngaltawata_, the ceremonial pole,” he said softly. Pointing again at _Uluru_, he smiled as Parker leaned forward to listen. Parker loved stories of all kinds. “See, when the people began to prepare the ceremony, two strangers appeared. They were men of the _Wintalka_, from the South. They wanted the _Mala_ to join them but the _Mala_ said no, because they had already begun their ceremony.”

“What did they do, Charlie?” Lizzie asked, enthralled.

“Shhh …” Sophie whispered. “Listen and you’ll find out.”

“So,” Charlie continued, “the _Wintalka_ men were upset and went away. They were so angry they made a huge devil-dog spirit called _Kurpani_, who chased the _Mala_ people.”

Sophie heard Lizzie and Kip both gasp in horror.

Charlie was warming to his subject matter, and his voice dropped into a growl.

“This bad spirit could change shape … he was a _mamu_ … a ghost. And the people couldn’t see him coming.”

Lizzie clutched Kip’s arm, and the little boy clasped Lizzie’s hand in return. The wind suddenly moaned amongst the spinifex and both children jumped. Eliot did his best to hide his smile.

Uluru was burnished orange-red now, and Charlie’s bony frame was stark and unearthly.

“_Luunpa_, Kingfisher Woman, could see _Kurpani_ coming and warned the people, but they didn’t listen and some of the men were killed. So the people ran away with the devil-dog chasing them. But the Ancestors are still here, and _Luunpa_, she became this rock.” Charlie hunkered down and studied the children, now mesmerised by the rich, ochre-red of _Uluru_ as it was washed by the light of the setting sun.

“There is a lesson here, _pika-pikka_. Do you know what it is?” he asked.

Lizzie and Kip shook their heads vigorously, eyes wide.

Charlie studied them closely.

“It means that you should _always_ watch out, and listen to warnings of danger. Do you understand?”

The children were silent as they thought about it, but Charlie pressed the issue.

“_Do you understand??_” he repeated, and this time Lizzie and Kip nodded. Their faces told him they had finally got it.

Charlie relaxed then, his white grin crinkling his dark eyes. The children would remember the warning far more easily if they had a story on which to hang it, and Eliot was grateful beyond measure for Charlie’s common sense.

The sun was almost below the horizon, and they would have to leave soon and return to the hotel just a couple of miles away where they would spend the night. The following morning they would fly back to Wapanjara and safety, and Eliot could relax.

But it was the dull amber of the lingering light that suddenly tickled his memory, thinking of the waitress’s amber eyes, and finally … _finally_ … a name materialised in his mind.

Hardison dropped down beside him and proffered the hitter a bottle of water as he watched _Uluru_ become a distant hulk of darkness beneath an endless drift of stars. But Eliot didn’t take it.

He stared at the last hint of light, and frowned.

“Hardison … I want you to do somethin’ for me when we get to the hotel.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I finally got a name for you. I don’t know if it’s anythin’ yet, but I need to know where she is.”

Hardison’s eyebrows headed for his hairline.

“She?” he asked, surprised.

“Yeah. _She_. The South American connection. Her name is Isabella Mengue.”

To be continued …

* * *

_Pika-pikka_ – _Warumungu_ word for ‘children’.

* The painting Lizzie loves exists. By Bardayal "Lofty" Nadjamerrek (c. 1926–2009), who was a Kunwinjku Aboriginal artist of the Mok clan. He is currently referred to by his skin and clan as "Wamud Namok", following the Kunwinjku custom of avoiding use of the name of deceased persons. I have a print of the painting on my living room wall.


	6. Gold Down in the 'Earts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note:  
Just a wee warning - there is a suggestion of predatory sexual behaviour. Nothing graphic at all, but just in case some folks find it uncomfortable to read. But it is part of the baddie’s character.

* * *

The children dozed almost all of the way back to Tennant Creek from Alice Springs on the Cessna, a result of excitement and exhaustion after a busy two days. The adults relaxed during the flight, although Hardison sat apart from everyone else as he leaned forward, inputting information on his laptop, focused on whatever was popping up on the screen. Without taking his eyes off the screen he reached out and rummaged for a gummy frog from the bag sitting on the seat beside him. Chewing thoughtfully, he jotted down information on a small notebook, pressed a button and then scrolled through the document which instantly appeared on-screen.

“You still tryin’ to find her?” Eliot said as he dropped tiredly into the seat opposite.

“Mmmm … hmm,” Hardison hummed, and then brought up a tracking app on his cell ‘phone. “’Tryin,’ bein’ the operative word,” he murmured, obviously deep in thought. “She’s like a frikkin’ shadow out of the corner of your eye … you just get a glimpse of her an’ she’s gone.”

“Yeah … that sounds about right,” Eliot concurred, and eased a crick out of his neck. For a second night he had sat in a chair in the large hotel suite with his knife beside him, and it hadn’t been the most comfortable of pastimes. “And I can’t help you much because there ain’t much to know about her.”

Hardison glanced at his friend, seeing the lines of strain on Eliot’s face.

“So … you never said where you knew her from,” he asked, his curiosity piqued. There was no guarantee that Eliot would answer. The hitter wasn’t known for his volubility when it came to his past, so when Eliot began to speak Hardison sat back, surprised but more than willing to listen.

“I met her only once,” Eliot said, “an’ that was enough.”

Hardison waited, knowing this was one of those times he had to shut up and not hassle the man.

Eliot hesitated for just a fraction of a second and then let out a gusty breath. Then he began to talk.

* * *

**Rio de Janeiro,  Brazil, March 1st, 2006 **

Isabella Mengue was a breathtakingly beautiful woman.

Eliot stood discreetly behind Damien Moreau in the luxurious _casa_ set in the tranquil reaches of Rio de Janeiro’s historic Santa Teresa quarter. This was Moreau’s centre of business when he was in Brazil, one of his regular ports of call when in South America.

The ceiling fans in the huge, elegant room whispered softly in the shadowed light, and Eliot could hear the laughter of Moreau’s ever-present gaggle of young women as they frolicked in the outside pool. The doors to the beautifully-kept garden were open to let in a slight breeze, and Eliot had positioned himself with his back a few feet from the wall and between Moreau and the doors, hands clasped in front of him, silent but attentive. From there he had the entire room – and Damien Moreau - within his purview.

Moreau sat in an antique ormolu chair picking at a bowl of fruit set on a small table beside him, and once in a while he fed a grape to a magnificent hyacinth macaw on the sturdy perch to his right.

Isabella Mengue did not sit down. She seemed content to stand and gaze out of the window opposite, studying the sprawl of the city below.

Eliot thought she was what could be called statuesque. Tall - certainly as tall as Eliot - her slender but strong frame was clothed in an exquisitely-cut but sombre dark blue dress. She wore no jewellery and her shoes were stylish but sensible. Her hair was the colour of dark, bitter chocolate and if let loose from its delicate, expensive net snood it would have reached her waist, Eliot was sure.

“So … can you do this thing for me?” Moreau asked Mengue, offering a grape to the macaw. The bird took it carefully with one clawed foot and nibbled at the fruit with its powerful beak, tongue working to turn the grape as it ate.

Mengue turned and studied Moreau, her arms crossed. The finger of her left hand tapped the slim biceps of her right arm.

She wore minimal make-up, just a dusting of eyeshadow and a little mascara, but it was obvious to Eliot that she simply didn’t need it. Her skin was the colour of caramel, flawless and smooth, and high cheekbones accented her heart-shaped face. But it was her eyes that set her apart. Large and almond-shaped, they glittered in the shaded light.

Ignoring Moreau’s query she turned her amber-gold eyes on Eliot, studying him carefully. Her perfect lips turned up at the corners, appreciating the stocky, handsome man in the dark suit, blue eyes the colour of the ocean looking right back at her, cautious but unafraid.

“Who is this man?” she asked, gesturing at Eliot with her chin.

Moreau sighed. He was well-used to Mengue’s interest in men.

“Isabella … we can discuss Eliot later, alright? We have business to discuss –“

“Eliot, is it?” Mengue asked, her mouth widening into a genuine smile. “Eliot …” she repeated, as though tasting the name on her tongue. Her accent was almost perfect with only a hint of the soft syllabics of her native Portuguese. She cocked her head and studied Eliot as though he was a piece of meat. “Do you like women, Eliot?” she asked suddenly, and Moreau let out a noise of irritation.

“_Not now_, Isabella. You can play with Eliot later, when we have finished our business!”

Eliot’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he gazed steadily back at the woman who perused him with such care.

Mengue pouted and finally turned back to Moreau.

“Promise?”

Moreau waved a hand in Eliot’s direction.

“He’s yours, Isabella, if … _if _… you get me the information I require.” He turned to Eliot, a calculating smile on his chiselled features. “You won’t mind, will you Eliot? Isabella, I am told, treats her men very, _very_ well.”

The only sign that Eliot was listening was the sudden jumping of muscles along his jawline.

“I’m not for sale,” he finally gritted out. His blue eyes darkened to the shade of an ocean storm.

Moreau let out a chuckle and fed the macaw another grape.

“Oh, Eliot, stop being such a prude! I’ll get you back! It’s just until … well … until she’s … ah … _satisfied_.” He emphasised the word with a leer. “And I hear you aren’t lacking in the ‘satisfaction’ department, my friend.” Moreau shrugged. “Treat it as a holiday.”

Mengue suddenly walked around Moreau to stand before Eliot, studying his features. He looked back at her, unblinking. She really was remarkably beautiful. She pursed her lips and then slowly wandered around Eliot, taking in his broad shoulders and capable hands, and she had trouble subduing a shiver of anticipation. She ran a finger down his chest towards his belt buckle.

Eliot took a slow, calculated step back, and she laughed softly.

“Is he shy?” she asked, glancing at Moreau. “I like the shy ones. They’re fun to play with.” She leaned forward and whispered in Eliot’s ear. “Are you shy, Eliot? Surely not. A man like you … I think you will be most … _responsive_,” she added and the tone of arousal in her voice was unmistakeable. She reached out again towards his belt.

Eliot had had enough. He grasped her wrist, holding tightly enough to control her movements but not enough to hurt.

“Touch me, lady, and you’ll lose it at the elbow,” he said with such calm that Mengue, just for a second, looked uncertain. But the smile returned and she looked Eliot squarely in the eye.

“Pain … I don’t mind pain. Receiving it or inflicting it. Do you like pain, Eliot?” The question was couched in a silken whisper.

“Isabella …” Moreau’s patience was wearing thin, and he stood up. “Isabella, leave Eliot alone. _Can you get me the information I need?_” he repeated, and this time there was no mistaking the annoyance in his voice.

Isabella Mengue relaxed and eased her wrist free of Eliot’s grip, and he was happy to let her go. The woman’s touch made his skin crawl.

“Don’t be so impatient, Damien!” she chided, and the teasing tone made Moreau’s cheek tic slightly. “Of course I can get you the information, my friend!” Mengue wandered over to another of the beautiful old chairs and sat down elegantly, crossing one leg over the other. She allowed the dress to ease up slightly, exposing one flawless thigh. Moreau let out a ‘tsk’ of frustration, but Mengue ignored him. “It may take me a few weeks, but there is already friction between _Comando Vermelho_ and _Terceiro Comando Puro*_. They’ve both been recruiting in the _favelas_, and some careful … _research_ … should find a weak point. I will give you names and locations, and then it will be on your own head what you do with the information.” She held up a hand. “I do not get involved in such things,” she added dismissively.

“Finally,” Damien sighed, and gestured at another of his men standing guard by the door. “Please bring Ms. Mengue’s car around.” He turned back to Mengue. “As soon as the information is received, I will have the payment delivered in cash, as always.” He arched an eyebrow as Mengue unfurled her legs and stood up.

“Have Eliot deliver it,” she said.

Moreau gave a hawkish smile.

“Of course,” he said, and fixed his dark gaze on Eliot.

Eliot, unfazed, stared back.

And then Isabella Mengue was gone, and all that was left was a faint scent of perfume and the memory of the lust in her golden eyes.

Eliot’s nostrils flared in disgust, but Moreau sensed his assassin’s dislike and perused the American.

“Why the attitude, Eliot? She’s a beautiful woman, is she not? Sleeping with her would not be such a chore, surely?”

The younger man’s shoulders straightened even further, and his look was pure ice.

“Do anything like that again, Damien, and I’ll slit your throat,” he said, and the threat was real.

“Oh, now,” Damien replied, his tone conciliatory, “you know I didn’t mean anything by it.” He raised an eyebrow, amused by Eliot’s rancour. “It’s up to you. She’ll get over it if you don’t want what she offers. Although I hear she’s quite the lover.”

“I hear she’s quite the predator too,” Eliot answered, and his lip curled in distaste. “She’s like a praying mantis. She has a habit of usin’ a knife if a man isn’t up to her standards – or even when he is.”

Moreau’s eyes widened in feigned surprise.

“What? Eliot Spencer frightened of a woman? Surely not!” he scoffed, but Eliot didn’t rise to the bait.

“I just don’t like havin’ to keep an eye out for a knife slidin’ between my ribs when I bed a woman, Damien. That’s all.” And without waiting for Moreau’s answer, Eliot turned on his heel and left.

* * *

“ … I left Moreau not long after that,” Eliot continued, watching Hardison as the young man sat open-mouthed in the seat opposite him. “Not because of Mengue. She was nothin’. I had other reasons.”

Hardison’s mouth shut with a snap. He watched as Eliot relaxed back in his seat and closed his eyes, shifting slightly to make himself more comfortable.

“I forgot all about her, to be honest,” Eliot continued softly, “she wasn’t part of Damien’s world. All I knew was that she gathered an’ sold information. I only met her once an’ never heard of her again after that, so I never gave her a second thought.”

“Man, she sounds a real piece of work,” Hardison pondered, and looked at Eliot with renewed wonder. Eliot’s life was, as ever, a never-ending source of mystery, and this new information made the hitter’s past even more intriguing.

Eliot shrugged.

“She was … _is_ … someone who keeps a low profile. All she does is gather information, and for that she has to be discreet and damn careful. I never moved in the same circles as she does. She’s not limited to South America, but she does most of her business there. I know nothin’ about her background … where she came from, or anythin’ else. The only odd thing is her name. Mengue. It ain’t Portuguese or indian. Hell, it sounds more Germanic than anythin’.” Eliot thought about Isabella Mengue for a moment before speaking again. “If she’s keepin’ tabs on me … on _us_ … then you can be damn sure it’s for someone else.”

Hardison singled out a gummy frog, popped it in his mouth and chewed solemnly. He swallowed and stared again at the screen of his laptop.

“So … who? Just who is this bitch workin’ for?” he asked himself, and referred to his notes. “She’s so frikkin’ elusive, El. Like a ghost. All I got after workin’ on this for _hours_ is a girl called Eloise Isabella Mengue born in Rocinha … oldest of ten,” he said, and ran his fingers down the list. “Her dad died durin’ a bar fight when she was twelve. She disappeared after that. Nothin’ in any official records, includin’ police records. _Nada_.” He shrugged. “Other than a whisper here and there of someone … a woman … who’s met with oligarchs an’ warlords an’ other assholes here an’ there, there’s nothin’ tangible. It’s just a glimpse an’ nothin’ else.”

Eliot nodded as he sank further back into his seat.

“Yeah … sounds like it could be her. Born in the _favelas_ … a drunk for a dad … she sounds like she hauled herself out of the shit and made somethin’ of herself. She’s clever. And friggin’ _dangerous_. She liked to use a knife, that I _do_ know. I just got the feelin’ she didn’t like men much.”

Hardison snorted.

“You don’t say. So … why you? Why us? What have we done to get on her radar? Who the hell is she workin’ for, an’ why hire that sonofabitch Ponomarenko?” He scratched his chin and frowned. “Doesn’t make sense.”

“It will,” Nate said, and dropped down into the seat across the aisle. He had obviously been listening to the conversation. “Once we find all the pieces it’ll come together. It’s just not going to be easy to find them, that’s for sure.”

“All I can do for now is try and dig up people she’s dealt with, Nate. Those are the only hooks we have to hang the research on. Otherwise I got diddly-squat.” Hardison shut the laptop with a disgusted flourish and rubbed his eyes with long fingers. “Maybe … maybe I just have to try trackin’ her right from the beginning. From ‘way back in the nineties. She’s maybe about the same age as you, El, so … I got decades of work, bro.” He allowed himself a cheeky grin as Eliot let loose a rumble of annoyance from deep in his chest and Nate grinned at the muttered “Wiseass!” that came from the Oklahoman.

Sophie’s head suddenly popped up behind Eliot and she peered at them over the back of her seat, obviously deep in thought.

“Eliot … do you think she’s vain? You said she’s beautiful. She’s also getting older … in her early forties now, yes?”

Eliot thought about it.

“Yeah. That’d be about right.” He opened his eyes and eased forward, his shoulders taut. “She was all over me, real sure of herself. Confident. She knew she was beautiful an’ was happy to use it to get what she wanted.” He allowed himself a smirk. “Well, she _tried_.”

“So … she’s over-compensating,” Sophie was turning over the little information they had about Mengue in her head. “If she’s had a rough start – and if she’s from the _favelas_ then yes, she’s probably been through hell - then she’ll use every advantage she has to further her cause. And if her beauty is her only asset other than her brain, or so she thinks, then for that asset to lessen due to, what shall we call it … “ she did a quick hand-flap to make her point, “… the ravages of time, say, then she may seek out some sort of help.”

“A plastic surgeon?” Hardison’s eyebrows rose quizzically. “Now, there’s a thought.”

Sophie quirked a tiny smile.

“She’s a grifter, just like me. And I’m not shy about it – I use my looks to assist in what I do. For goodness sake, we’ve all done it. We’ve even auctioned Eliot and Hardison off for charity before now,” she added gleefully.

Hardison let loose a white, cheery grin.

“Yeah, an’ who got the biggest bid!” he crowed quietly, and Eliot gave him a glare, “man, fifteen _thousand _bucks! Got me a steak dinner an’ _everythin’!_”

“What’s an auction?” Lizzie piped up as she flung herself into the seat next to her father.

Nate looked at the blatant curiosity on his daughter’s face as she gazed up at him, and for the umpteenth time was amazed by her bottomless need for information.

“Well, it’s a kind of sale where people bid against each other to buy things,” he explained, but to his dismay he saw a look of horror wash over Lizzie’s face.

“You _sold_ Eliot and Alec??” she gasped, but before Nate could explain further, her dark eyes turned to her mother. “Mama, that’s really bad!! You can’t sell people!!”

“’Lizbeth Grace, it’s okay – “ Eliot began, but the little girl shook her head, appalled at what she was hearing.

“No, Eliot!! It’s not!! Nana says it’s bad to sell people, and she told me it even happens today and it’s nasty because children and grown-ups are treated really, really badly and –“

It was Hardison who finally stopped her, reaching out to place a big hand on her shoulder and smiling gently at his god-daughter.

“It wasn’t like that, baby-girl,” he began, his voice softening to consoling gentleness. “It was a con … Eliot an’ me … it was just a way in to get to the bad guys. We weren’t harmed, sweetheart. Pretty ladies just bid on us so we could keep ‘em company an’ take ‘em to dinner an’ stuff – “

“Why?” Kip asked as he joined Lizzie. “What kind of stuff?”

“Um …” Hardison realised he had backed himself into a corner. “Ask Eliot.”

“Me? Why’re you askin’ me?” Eliot’s voice hitched up a note or two, and he sat up, pointing at Sophie. “Ask Soph!”

All eyes turned to the grifter, who glared at Eliot.

“You _bugger_,” she said.

Eliot’s grin was pure nastiness.

As Sophie tried to explain the reason why Eliot and Hardison had been auctioned off to apparently rich young women for thousands of dollars, Hardison remembered coming upon his Nana and Lizzie on their visit to Chicago the previous year.

Nana had been showing Lizzie photographs of Hardison as a boy, much to the hacker’s embarrassment, but as the photograph albums began to add up on the table in Nana’s cluttered kitchen, Nana explained that her great-great-grandparents had been born into slavery.

Lizzie had been deeply shocked.

Nana had gently explained how they had both been emancipated, and they and their children had settled in Mississippi to farm. Lizzie had gazed at a photograph from the 1880s of the large family sitting in front of their small, hand-built but neat house, all of them stiff and dignified for the photographer, and Nana told Lizzie how proud she was of them.

Hardison quietly slipped away as Nana and Lizzie talked into the night, and Lizzie had never forgotten how the elderly woman had told her of terrible times, but had also spoken of hope and kindness and tolerance. Hardison was so very, very glad his Nana made him her own.

But he had other things to deal with, and leaving his family to bicker and field awkward questions from two very curious children, he returned to his laptop.

_Isabella Mengue and Tomas Ponomarenko_. The names were earworms that wouldn’t leave him alone, and they came to him in his dreams.

The whats, whys and wherefores had Hardison beginning to comprehend how overwhelming it all was. As he opened his laptop and returned to his research, he grimly wondered what deep and very, very nasty can of worms he was digging into, and what terrified him most of all was the feeling that if he missed even the tiniest hint of what was going on, it could cost all of them their lives.

* * *

For the thirteenth time in the past hour, Mei Munro’s eyes strayed to the rise of the hill where the stringybarks grew, where the road ran towards distant civilisation and brought loved ones home to the place called Wapanjara.

“Why are they not home yet, Papa Soapy?” she asked, worry clouding her dark eyes. Jamie sat beside her on the swing-seat, giggling as she tickled him gently.

Soapy had to hide a smile as he stood on the veranda rocking Rose in his arms, her head resting on his chest as she listened to the steady, lulling beat of her grandfather’s heart.

“Don’t worry, my girl, they’ll be home soon. Nate called us from the airport so –“

As if on cue, the rumble of vehicle engines came faintly through the shimmering heat of this summer’s day, and Mei broke into a relieved smile. Picking up Jamie she hugged him, the little boy burbling with glee. Mei stood on her tiptoes and kissed a surprised Soapy Munro on his leathery cheek, and Soapy, still unused to having a daughter who adored him, raised his eyebrows and chuckled.

“They’re home!” Mei cried and trotted down the veranda steps, Jamie held tightly to her chest, to wait for her family. She waved with enthusiasm as Doris appeared over the brow of the hill, heading down the incline and past the ancient gum tree that guarded the homestead gate. Bernadette trundled along behind her, and both vehicles were soon parked in the shade beneath the trees, people spilling out into the dry, arid heat.

Effie was helped out of Bernadette and she stumped through the small crowd of happy people, her RAAF hat jammed on her head and voluminous handbag hanging from one arm. With saying a word, she made her way up the steps, through the veranda and into the house. Once in her kitchen, she put the kettle on, dumped her handbag on the enormous oak table and sighed happily.

She was home, and she was dying for a good cuppa.

Jo appeared through the doorway and pulled out a stool, perching on it as she studied Effie.

“Well?” she said. “How did it go?”

Effie took a moment or two before replying, and then reached into her handbag and brought out her extendable cosh, placing it gently on the table.

“Alright, I suppose,” she grumbled. “I didn’t need to use this on anyone. The Yank made sure we was all safe. Other than that … it was just bleedin’ bonzer!”

Jo chuckled and stood up to fetch cups from their cupboard and dumped teabags into Effie’s big teapot, and was about to dig out Mei’s experimental marble cake for everyone to try when two children stormed into the kitchen followed by Parker, all three of them chattering about Santa and decorations and were they going to have a tree. Parker dumped a very large cardboard box on the table and flung herself onto a stool. She gazed at the marble cake.

“Yum!” she said.

“Dammit, Eff!” Eliot grunted as he dragged Effie’s suitcase past the kitchen door towards her room, “are you sure you ain’t got bricks in this thing? It weighs a ton!”

Effie snorted, ignored him and focused on Kip and Lizzie, the two children retrieving juice from the enormous refrigerator and pouring it carefully into bright lime-green glasses.

The kitchen was suddenly swarming with people, all talking at once, and as Jo pulled out more cups and placed plates and forks beside Mei’s marble cake, she happily absorbed every moment of bickering, laughter and love that made her house feel like home.

“Yes, there’s a tree!” Soapy shouted above the noise, and Parker let out a yip of delight. “Not a real one, I’m afraid,” the old pastoralist continued, “it wouldn’t last in this heat, but we found a decent pretend-tree which I think will do nicely!”

Parker cut herself and the children a slice of cake each and handed out forks as Eliot joined them, complaining about Effie’s suitcase as he pulled out a stool and slumped down on it. Hardison squeezed past him, Rose tucked against his chest, and headed for the cake, eyes bright with anticipation.

“Man-oh-man, will you look at that! All chocolatey an’ scrumptious an’ headin’ straight for my tummy, little sister!” he added and tickled Rose, who giggled happily, arms flailing as Hardison sat her on his knee so that she could rest back on his chest. “Your momma’s a genius!” He leaned over and kissed Rose’s tousled hair.

Parker forked cake into her mouth and a pink tongue stuck out chasing a crumb on her lip. Humming to herself, she reached over and upended the scruffy cardboard box onto the table.

A river of glittering beauty spilled over the old oak table’s spotless surface. Necklaces and earrings aglow with flawless diamonds and sapphires the colour of the vast reaches of the ocean lay winking under the kitchen lights. Fire opals shimmered in silver bracelets and loose, uncut emeralds echoing the shadowed green of the forests of Colombia tumbled over cabochons of rubies which glowed the deepest blood-red. The colours caught the reflection of the lights and draped the ceiling and walls of the cavernous kitchen with the soft glimmer of stained-glass, turning the room into a place of beauty that would not have looked out of place in the great medieval cathedrals of Europe.

Effie almost dropped her teacup.

“Bloody hell!” she whispered, and before she could stop herself she picked up a necklace that slipped through her fingers like jewelled water. Tiny slivers of sapphires and pink diamonds were set into an intricate filigree tracery made of platinum and white gold. Larger square-cut sapphires lay snug in tiny egg-shaped settings, and Effie fumbled for her spectacles, pulling them out of her pocket and shoving them with a shaking hand onto her face. She peered more closely at the oval, diamond-encrusted sliding clasp from which hung a large, single, deep blue sapphire teardrop on a chain. Worn with a backless dress, it would have made quite an impression. There was a tiny stamp on the back of the clasp, and Effie suddenly gasped.

“This … this …” she stammered, and then lost the ability to speak.

Sophie smiled.

“Yes,” she said with enviable calm, “nice, isn’t it? Carl Fabergé did make some quite fetching necklaces when he wasn’t making imperial eggs.”

Jo’s face was a picture, Eliot thought, as she reached out to touch a small brooch in the shape of a dragonfly, with rock-crystal wings and a glittering abdomen of green and gold. The eyes were moonstones, and the insect appeared to be gazing at Jo with limpid moon-glow.

Parker helped herself to more cake as Kip ran his fingers through a small river of rubies. The little thief waved her fork at Jo.

“Do you like it?” she asked as Jo picked up the dragonfly, its rich yellow-gold frame bright against Jo’s tanned skin, “ ‘cause you can have it if you want. I was going to put it on the tree like I always do, but I think it would look really pretty on you, Jo.” She grinned happily. “Keep it.”

Jo’s mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to get some words out, and when she did they were nothing more than a croak.

“Parker … I … I can’t … it’s … but I can’t! Where … are these all … y’know … _stolen?_”

Parker let out a snorky giggle and sipped her orange juice.

“Well, _yeah!_” she exclaimed, and seeing the look of dismay on Jo’s face, she thought she had better elucidate. “Oh, I took them from bad guys, so don’t worry! That one came from a creep who trafficked people from Eastern Europe and sold ‘em as servants Stateside.”

“Slaves, Parker,” Nate murmured as he finished his cake slice and helped himself to more. “That’s basically what they were. Indentured servants, without a hope in hell of paying that piece of trash back for the outlay in getting them to the States.”

Mei, sitting beside Hardison with Jamie in her arms, shuddered. She knew all about the horrific trade in human beings.

Jo turned the golden dragonfly over in her fingers.

“So what happened to him?” she asked quietly, and then handed the dragonfly to Soapy as he sat beside her.

“Jail,” Eliot explained. "Both he an’ his men. And his wife. He got sent to White Swan Prison in the Urals.” The hitter grinned wickedly. “The S.O.B. spends his time minin’ salt.”

Parker cocked her head at Jo and her blue eyes softened.

“Please, Jo. Keep it. I’d like you to have it. Soapy, tell Jo to keep it!” she insisted, and her pleasure at the idea warmed her through and through.

Soapy frowned thoughtfully, and then turned and pinned the dragonfly on Jo’s lapel. Then he kissed his wife thoroughly and winked at Parker. Tucking a silver-auburn curl behind Jo’s ear, he studied her carefully.

“It matches your eyes,” he murmured. “My golden girl wearing a golden dragonfly. Just perfect.”

Jo gazed into her husband’s lugubrious face, his black eyes carrying that spark of love she saw every time he looked at her. Her hand touched the dragonfly, and for once in her life didn’t seem to know what to say, so Parker said it for her.

“See? Now it has a new home, and it won’t have to be in this box any more.” She poked at the loose stones scattered on the table, idly tracing a line through them. “These … I want to give these to the Kangaroo Sanctuary. They just get dusty sitting on their own in my box. The necklaces and stuff are nice and I like to wear them to bed sometimes, or put them on the Christmas tree, which is why I brought them, but these things … they’re not much _use_.” Her face scrunched up as she thought about it. The magpie in her loved the glitter and shine, but she preferred things she could wear or use as decoration. The loose stones she had taken simply because she _could_.

Conversation drifted into silence as everyone realised the enormity of what Parker was saying. The stones were worth _millions_.

“Parker … are you sure?” Nate asked, realising that Parker had reached some sort of crossroads. Empathy had never been Parker’s strong point.

She nodded, her gamine features set into the look her team recognised as Parker’s ‘sure … why not?’ look. They all realised that the stones had never meant that much to the little thief, whereas the plight of the little, helpless pinkies had somehow wormed its way into her heart.

Sophie reached out and squeezed Parker’s arm, and nodded.

“I think that’s a great idea, Parker. But I have a suggestion,” she said, gentleness in every syllable. “How about sharing them around? There are lots of sanctuaries out there who could use your help. What with the bush fires and everything … there are lots of animals who have no-one to help them, or have to deal with the mess we’ve made of our world … why not find a way to give them the money so they can make a real impact?”

“Is there a way to set up some sort of system where money can be given anonymously?” Jo asked, knowing the team had to be careful, security always at the forefront of their minds.

Hardison waved a hand, holding Rose securely on his lap with the other.

“It’s no problem, Jo. I can set up somethin’, easy as hell. Change these lil’ beauties into hard cash. We have our contacts.” He grinned, teeth flashing, at Parker, eyes warm with delight. “You go, girl! That’s a helluva good idea.”

“It’s almost like I would be Santa!” she giggled, and earnestly began to gather the scattered jewels up and throw them back in the cardboard box. Kip and Lizzie started to help, and the children giggled as they made a game of dropping sapphires and diamonds into the box. Parker’s smile widened and her blue eyes sparked with joy. “Kip and Lizzie could be my elves!”

Kip laughed out loud as his father winked at him, and he tugged at Parker’s sleeve.

“Can we help choose who to give the jewels to?” he asked, eyes huge with excitement.

Parker let out an indignant snorkle.

“Hell, yeah!” she stated, “I don’t know where these places are! You can help me decide, huh.” Her brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “I wish I had a sleigh and reindeer.”

“Ah,” Soapy said, and clasped Jo’s hand where it lay on the table, “Santa doesn’t use reindeer in Australia,” he explained.

“Why??” Parker asked, and suddenly her world was a little out of kilter. _No reindeer?_ “How does he -“

“Boomers,” Soapy said with authority. “Santa lets the reindeer have a rest when he gets to Australia on Christmas night. He’s already been all over the place, so they deserve a carrot and some hay. So … he uses boomers. Six white boomers.”

Lizzie was astounded.

“Seriously?? Santa uses _kangaroos??_” she asked, agog.

“Sure does,” Eliot said, cutting a piece of cake. “Six big, pure white boomers. Reindeer don’t deal too well with the outback, so Santa uses kangaroos. Makes sense, dontcha think?”

Kip and Lizzie exchanged glances.

“Effie,” Kip said hurriedly, “can we leave some food out for the boomers?”

This was Kip’s first Christmas with his friend, as the _Warumungu_ didn’t really celebrate the holiday other than with some gifts and maybe a corroboree. But he had been delighted to be included in Lizzie’s plans for the day, and the idea of decorating a tree sounded _bonzer_, especially as they could use Parker’s lovely shiny jewellery.

Effie screwed up her pudgy face as she thought about it. Kip and Lizzie each hung onto Parker as all three of them watched the old cook ruminate on the issue.

“And something for Santa too!” Lizzie added, “he’ll be really, _really_ tired by the time he gets to Wapanjara, I bet!”

“Well now, nippers … let me think …” Effie pondered, and it was obvious that both children and one thief hung desperately on every word. “I suppose … I suppose I can think of something. But the boomers’re not my bleedin’ responsibility, young ‘uns! They’ll need hay and water and a bit of a treat … somethin’ special, I reckon.”

Lizzie and Kip immediately turned to Charlie.

“Dad??” Kip gasped, worried that the boomers would die of exhaustion on the spot if his father didn’t help.

“_Please??_” Lizzie begged, eyes huge with concern, and Parker nodded vigorously in agreement.

Charlie frowned, taking the children’s fears very seriously. Dead boomers couldn’t pull Santa’s sleigh _anywhere_.

“I suppose I could dig out a carrot or two. Gertie won’t mind, I’m sure.” Gertie had her own supply of carrots. “And I suppose we can leave ‘em a bucket of cattle feed to keep their energy levels up.”

Both children let out a gusty sigh of relief, and Parker grinned happily. Christmas was back on with a vengeance, with Santa and his boomers taken care of. Now all they needed to do was put up the tree, decorate it and stack lots of presents underneath it. She had brought her illuminated flashy reindeer antlers to wear, and she just couldn’t _wait_.

* * *

The two days left before Christmas were busy ones.

The rotisserie arrived the day after everyone came home, and Effie had a wonderful time with the children unwrapping it and figuring out how everything worked. It was much admired, and with Eliot’s help Effie immediately plugged it in beside the little deck and stairs outside the kitchen.

That night everyone ate melt-in-the-mouth chicken and a wonderful marinated rack of beef. The rotisserie, much to Effie’s delight, was deemed an overwhelming success.

Soapy dug out the pretend-tree and set it up on the veranda. It took Parker, Mei, Lizzie and Kip all afternoon to decorate it, with lots of laughter, tweaks of priceless jewellery and the installation of a white kangaroo wearing a Santa hat on the apex of the tree. Hardison’s height made him the ideal victim to hang lights around the eaves of the house, and even Eliot was deployed to help Nate hang tiny, twinkling lights on the huge old gum tree by the homestead gate. Eliot growled, complained and argued while Nate directed him from ground level, saying that climbing trees wasn’t his forte. Eliot had no idea why Parker couldn’t hang the frikkin’ lights and was told that Parker was busy putting lights all over the roof of the house.

By the time everyone had finished, Sophie was sure the house would be seen from the International Space Station.

By Christmas Eve, the pile of presents under the tree had grown so much that Soapy and Nate had to put out a small table to carry the excess. Buster spent a lot of his time sniffing the mysterious packages, all wrapped in shiny paper, and Parker skipped about the house wearing her reindeer antlers. The children refused to remove their elf hats.

Jo and Soapy loved every moment. Their home was full to the brim with people they loved, and for the first time in their lives they had their own family with which to celebrate. There was laughter and joy, and the tree glittered on the shadowed veranda, the soft, twinkling lights mirrored by the fireflies and the stars above shining in the reaches of the endless night.

Eliot sat in his recliner and let the happiness wash over him. His family was safe and sound, and Hardison’s security system was thrumming quietly to itself, alert and ready to guard the people of Wapanjara.

“Can we stay up to wait for Santa?” Lizzie asked sleepily. Kip sprawled beside her, full of Effie’s excellent chicken parmigiana, and he sighed happily.

“D’you think Santa will land on the roof?” he asked, “’’cause the boomers won’t get anything to eat if they land on the roof!”

A bale of hay with a bunch of carrots and a bucket of feed sat beside the veranda, put there by Jacko and the crew. The arguments about how much food to leave out and what special treat the boomers would like had gone on for _hours_.

“Nah!” Charlie scoffed with a grin. “He’ll land in the yard. There’s more room there, anyway. He can come in through the veranda door instead of trying to go down the chimney,” he explained. “Then he can get his glass of beer and his sarnies and cake.”

The children, tired though they were, wriggled with excitement.

Eliot, looking at the somnolent people around him, decided he needed to stretch his legs before bedtime. So he stood up, yawned, and ran his fingers through his thick hair.

“Gonna go check Gertie,” he rumbled, “She’s pretty close now. You two want to come?” he asked the children. Both of them scrambled to their feet and eagerly followed Eliot down the veranda steps, Buster as always tagging along behind them.

As they disappeared into the night on their now-regular Gertie-check, Nate gazed after them, sipping his cup of coffee.

“I hope this baby arrives soon before Eliot wastes away with worry,” he murmured to Sophie, who was curled up beside him on the roomy swing seat.

“God help us if something goes wrong,” she whispered, elegant eyebrows drawn down in concern. “Eliot’ll be bad enough, but Lizzie … I don’t know if she’d ever get over it.”

Looking around at the people settled in their comfortable chairs, she saw the same expression on every face. Much as they were looking forward to Christmas, the cloud of worry over a very-middle-aged camel having her first baby hovered like a miasma over the group.

Effie decided the silence was too depressing.

“Righto, you bludgers!” She rumbled, and got to her lumpy feet. “Who wants pannacotta??”

* * *

The children followed Eliot up the incline towards the barn, the old building now sporting a plethora of tiny, multi-coloured winking lights. The mares and foals were standing patiently beside the paddock gate awaiting their suppers, and Lizzie and Kip stopped for a minute or two to fuss over Sparky, who gave out a soft nicker of pleasure as they headed towards him, his dam Dottie reaching out to nuzzle the children’s heads. Eliot kept going, hands deep in his pockets as he strode through the big door into the lit interior. Letting out a soft whistle, he waited to hear Gertie’s burble of delight at the arrival of her best friend as he tried to see if she was resting in the big foaling box. But there was no sign of her ears through the grilles, usually swivelling like radar antenna as soon as she heard Eliot’s whistle.

Eliot was met with silence.

He broke into a run, and reaching the foaling box, he heard a deep, pained groan. _Oh. Oh God_. He reached for the door, slid it open and took in the scene before him. His breath hitched and he turned swiftly as the children appeared through the barn entrance.

“_Go get Charlie!! NOW!!_” he bawled, and dropped down into the straw beside Gertie.

To be continued …

* * *

* _Comando Vermelho_ and _Terceiro Comando Puro_ are both Brazilian criminal organisations active in Rio de Janeiro.


	7. Oh, A Farmer's Life Ain't Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just silliness, a bit of an angsty Parker, and a possible ‘Librarians’ moment if you look closely enough.

* * *

Lizzie and Kip skidded to a halt at Eliot’s yell, and just for a second or two took in the sight before them. Gertie was partly obscured by the wooden wall of the box, but both children could see she was sprawled on her side, legs rigid and neck and head stretched out in the deep straw. Her ears were flattened and her bottom lip was quivering as her whole body strained as it dealt with a massive contraction.

Eliot knelt beside her, doing his best to soothe the huge camel as he ran his hands over her side, feeling the tense muscle beneath the brown hide. Gertie let out a pitiful squeak and tried to raise her head to give Eliot a camel-kiss, but he shushed her gently and turned again towards the children.

“_Go on!_” he hissed, worry making him beyond impatient, _“GIT!”_

The children didn’t need telling again. As one they turned and ran pell-mell from the barn, down the incline towards the house, guided by bright starlight and the warm, golden glow from the veranda lights.

* * *

Charlie was sprawled, bony limbs akimbo, on one of the old, comfortable armchairs on the veranda, lazily listening to the hum of conversation around him. It was very late, he realised, and it was well past Kip’s bedtime, but for once he didn’t concern himself about it. Having his new family around him was helping the little boy recover from the tragic and senseless loss of his mother, and Charlie was willing to give Kip as much time as he needed.

Hardison was in the middle of a rambling story about how he had scared off some Korean bad guys by shooting out the engine block of their car, while Parker kept interrupting and saying that Eliot had told her how Hardison had actually been aiming at the lead bad guy’s leg.

The blustering and arguments were beginning to make Charlie hungry again, so he levered his body out of the chair and was about to help himself to some pannacotta when he heard childish voices echoing out of the darkness.

“_DAD!! DAD!!” YOU GOTTA COME!!_”

Charlie straightened, alarmed, as his son’s shouts came to him from the night.

“_CHARLIE!! THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG WITH GERTIE!!_” Lizzie yelled as she emerged from the dark into the golden light of the veranda, followed by Kip. Both children were running as fast as they could, and Charlie could see the wide-eyed mixture of fear and excitement on their faces.

There were murmurs of alarm around him as Charlie dropped his fork onto the table and turned swiftly, striding to the veranda screen door as the two children stumbled up the steps in their hurry to get to Charlie.

Kip piled into his father’s arms as Lizzie clutched at the station manager’s sleeve, both of them talking at once in their need to tell Charlie what was going on.

“Gertie’s having her babbie, Dad, and Eliot’s chuckin’ a wobbly –“

“ –you have to hurry Charlie! Gertie –“

“ – come _on_, Dad!! Please! We have to _go!_”

Charlie crouched down and took Kip by the shoulders, the material of his sleeve still held tightly by Lizzie’s small fingers.

“Hang on now, you young beggars! Take a breath, calm down and tell me what’s going on. So … Gertie’s in labour, right?” he said quietly, and both children did their best to steady their breathing while nodding as hard as they could.

“Yah-huh!” Lizzie gasped, “and Eliot’s really upset, Charlie, and Gertie’s really, really in a fix!”

“_Dad!_” Kip’s dark eyes were wide with stress as he grasped his father’s hands where they lay on his shoulders, tugging at Charlie’s long fingers. “_You have to help Gertie!_”

Charlie straightened and stood up, Kip’s fingers tangled in his.

“Righto – let’s get going, hey? Are you nippers ready to help out?” he asked, and saw the relief on the children’s faces. He twisted around as Hardison touched his shoulder, and took the object the hacker held out to him.

“State of the art, m’man,” Hardison said, and handed the young aborigine a neat, two-way radio. Soapy’s old walkie-talkies had finally been consigned to the spare-parts drawer in the barn office, and Hardison had introduced military-standard two-way radios, which were far more reliable and worked over longer distances. “If you need us, give us a holler, okay?”

Charlie saw the concern in the man’s dark eyes, nodded his thanks.

“Will do, mate. We should be bonzer, but –“

“I’ll come and help!” Parker interjected, and began to unfurl her slim body from its seat, but Charlie pushed her down again with a grim smile.

“Nah. Gertie’s a big girl and takes up a lot of space. But thanks, Parker.” His features softened. “_Thanks._”

Parker looked around at her family and saw the same expression on all of their faces … compassion, coupled with faint lines of worry. She hesitated for a moment, and then gave a single, jerky nod.

“Yes … well … just remember, Charlie Jakkamarra - I have _really small_ hands.”

“I know, I know.” Charlie’s amiable features broke into a grin. “If I need a really small hand to get this calf out, I’ll make sure I give you a yell.”

A little mollified, Parker grumped and settled again in her chair even as the children dragged on Charlie’s hand, pulling him towards the veranda steps.

Lizzie led the way down onto the red dirt of the yard, her boots clattering loudly in the cool night air. As she did so, Nate and Sophie blinked and stood up as one to try and call their wayward daughter back to the house, but she and Kip were already running back through the darkness towards the barn.

Charlie, radio in hand, trotted after them but took the time to wave a hand at the two worried parents.

“I’ll keep an eye on the nippers, so no worries!” he yelled, and then he was swallowed by the jasmine-scented night as he raced to help Eliot save Gertie and her unborn calf.

Nate watched until Lizzie was out of sight and then turned to his wife, whose features were a mixture of concern and pride.

“Well,” he said, and lifted the plate on which lay Charlie’s untouched pannacotta, “I suppose we wait.”

Sophie eyed Nate as he toyed with the idea of eating the delicious dessert, and frowned. Nate was consumed with worry, she could tell, and the food was simply a way to distract his always-active mental processes. She saw Hardison sit down on Eliot’s recliner and chew his lip, the tall young man obviously dealing with a dose of fidgeting, his leg jumping as he tried to figure out what to do with his hands.

“I _know_ I shoulda set up a camera in there, dammit!” he muttered, his voice dark with guilt.

“Too late now, Hardison. But I seriously don’t think it would have made any difference.” Sophie sighed. “Dear God, I hope nothing goes wrong.”

“Lizzie will deal with it, Sophie, although Gertie’s in good hands,” Jo said, green eyes warm with sympathy, knowing how much Gertie meant to all of them.

“Oh, I know, I know,” the grifter retorted with feeling. “Lizzie’s tough, and since she’s been coming home to Wapanjara, I’ve realised just _how_ tough. I’m not worried about Lizzie.”

“So who - ?” Hardison began, but Effie interrupted as she poured out another cup of tea.

“The Yank,” she rumbled, and even Nate could hear the worry in the little cook’s voice. “If that hairy big bugger carks it along with her babbie, he’ll never forgive himself.”

For a moment silence overcame this unconventional family gathered on the old veranda, surrounded by soft, winking lights and the twinkle of the jewelled Christmas tree.

Effie took a sip of her tea and glowered unhappily, thinking about Eliot’s love for the big camel. She let out a huffing grumble.

“Boofhead,” she said with feeling, and settled down to wait.

* * *

Charlie shouted out orders to the children even as he ran into the barn.

“You two, I need soap, the vet lube and lots of towels, y’hear me? I’ll get the hot water! Oh – and nip into the office and dig out the calving ropes, okay?”

He didn’t even bother to check if Lizzie and Kip had taken the information on board as he grabbed a clean bucket and filled it with hot water from the faucet beside the feed bins. Hefting the bucket, he made his way to the foaling box and could hear Eliot crooning soft, silly words of comfort to Gertie. The controlled panic in the Oklahoman’s voice made Charlie’s kind heart ache. Gertie’s pained grunts were tempered by her soft, desperate squeaks of love as Eliot spoke to her, trying to keep her still.

Charlie set the radio on the small table beside the box and then slid open the door and stared at the scene before him.

“Oh … _bugger_,” he swore under his breath.

Eliot looked up at him and Charlie was shocked to see how white his face was, his friend’s blue eyes stark under drawn-down dark brows.

“You gotta help her, Charlie!” Eliot whispered, and Gertie tried to lift her head as Charlie set the bucket down out of the way of Gertie’s legs in case she flailed in her pain. He had never seen Eliot look so helpless.

“Here, Dad!” Kip called out, and the two children were suddenly beside him, handing him liquid antiseptic soap which he squirted into the bucket of water. Lizzie dropped the towels beside the radio on the table, and Charlie placed the two short, looped calving ropes into the soapy water.

Lizzie’s eyes widened as she finally saw why Gertie was in such trouble. Instead of two forelegs and a head peeping out of the membrane ballooning from Gertie’s backside, all she could see was a tail. A small, wet, pitiful tail and the round glimpse of the calf’s rump.

“It’s coming bum-first!” Kip gasped as he handed his father the bottle of veterinary lube.

“Is it going to die??” Lizzie couldn’t stop the tremor of fear in her voice, but Charlie had no time to indulge either child.

“Righto, you two! Out you go! Eliot and I need room to work!” he said as kindly as he could, rolling up his sleeves and beginning to wash his hands and arms with the hot, soapy water.

“But Dad –“ Kip began, but Charlie had no time for worried children.

“No buts, Kip! We have to work fast, so I need you to wait outside and hand me towels when I ask for ‘em, alright?”

Gertie let out a barrage of pitiful, silly squeaks as another unproductive contraction rippled through her body.

“Easy, darlin’, Eliot murmured and rubbed her velvet muzzle, doing his best to comfort her, but it was obvious the big dromedary was in serious trouble. “Charlie … we got to get those back legs in the right position,” he added, and easing Gertie’s huge head down into the straw, he waited as Charlie finished washing and rolled up his own sleeves, soaping up his forearms and hands.

Charlie glanced up from his inspection of Gertie’s hind end and noticed that the children hadn’t moved. His eyes sparked impatiently.

“What did I say, nippers, hey? Out! And close the door behind you and don’t open it until I bloody well say so, or you go back to the house!” he snipped, and then bent back to his work.

Lizzie and Kip both blinked at the vehemence in his voice, but they hastily nodded and backed out of the foaling box as Eliot crouched down beside Charlie, ready to do what he could to help. 

The hitter saw the fear on the children’s faces, and managing to get his own concerns under control, he winked at them.

“Don’t worry. Charlie an’ me … we’ll give you a yell for towels for the calf when it’s born,” he said, and he saw Lizzie smile shakily. “But now Gertie needs us, okay? An’ she needs you two to do as you’re told and help out when we ask you. Do you understand?”

Seeing the wordless nods on the two young faces as they slid the door shut behind them, he turned to Charlie as the aborigine studied the situation.

“Think you can fix this?” he asked, even as he dreaded the answer.

Charlie thought about it for a moment, and nodded.

“Okay, Yank. It’ll be tricky, but I think the little ‘un’s small, being a first calf, so that works in our favour. Hand me the lube, and I’ll want the ropes in a little bit. When I do …”

“Don’t worry, Charlie. I know how to keep the calf from comin’ any further while you fix the legs,” Eliot answered, happier now that they could try and do something to help Gertie. “It’ll have to be quick,” he continued. “With the calf bein’ breach, when the legs’re brought around we’ll have to get it out as fast as we can. It could suffocate, Charlie, so …”

Charlie, face grim with determination, agreed wordlessly. He knew they would only have seconds to spare to get the calf out once the legs had been realigned, or it could smother before it was even born.

“Okay mate,” he said with a determination that made Eliot’s heart ease a little, “let’s get this baby born.”

And as the clock crept inexorably towards midnight, the two men set to work to try and bring a new life forth into the warmth and love of Wapanjara.

* * *

The time ticked by, and the silence on the veranda was beginning to play on everyone’s nerves.

Jo stared at her crossword, reading the clue for the umpteenth time and not ingesting a single word. Sighing, she tossed her pen on the table and muttered wordlessly to herself. She clasped Soapy’s hand as he slumped next to her on his chair. Her husband checked his watch once again. Obviously nothing had changed in the past three minutes.

“What is it they say … a watched pot never boils?” Soapy asked no-one in particular, but Parker snorted.

“That’s silly,” she snapped. “Of course it boils whether it’s watched or not!”

“It’s just a sayin’, babe,” Hardison said, doing his best to control his own worry. He was very fond of Gertie, and she adored Hardison because he was the purveyor of gummy frogs, of which Gertie was extremely fond. Unfortunately the things gave her gas.

Parker stood up and began to stalk up and down the veranda.

“I know, Hardison! I know …” She flicked a glance at Soapy. “Sorry.”

Soapy gave her a grin.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, “I know everyone’s in a bit of a tizz. But she’s in good hands, Parker. Charlie’s been delivering calves and foals since he was a nipper – probably more than any veterinarian. And Eliot’s no slouch either.”

“They’ll give us a yell if they need help,” Jo added, gesturing at the two-way-radio resting silently on the table. Mei had been staring at it ever since Charlie had disappeared into the darkness.

“Why is it taking so long??” she asked as she dandled a sleepy Rose on her lap. “Papa Soapy, is Gertie going to be alright?”

Soapy did his best to give his daughter a calming smile.

“There’s always a risk with things like this, but Gertie has the best help in the world, sweetheart. We’ve even done caesareans on cows before now – with Jo’s help – so she has a lot of support.”

Mei leaned forward and kissed Rose’s dark hair.

“I hope so, Papa. I hope so.” She took a deep, huffing breath. “We love Gertie, and she loves _us_.”

Mei often sat on the steps of the veranda with one of her children, and without fail Gertie would discover her presence and arrive at a lollop, squeaking madly and eager to give the baby camel-kisses. Both Rose and Jamie would collapse into giggles which made Gertie honk with delight.

Everyone was quiet for long moments until Parker gave out a wordless noise of frustration. She opened the veranda screen door, stumped down the steps and wandered into the yawning dark of the South paddock track.

“Parker!” Nate called out, but Sophie stopped her husband from following the little thief.

“Leave her, Nate,” she soothed, “she needs a little time to herself. She’s trying to process what would happen if …” she tailed off, her own concerns weighing heavily even though they were unsaid.

“But it _won’t_,” Hardison said doggedly. “Our girl ain’t gonna die, Soph. Eliot won’t let her. Her baby, neither. It’s _Christmas_,” he continued as though the word itself would make everything alright.

“Bugger this,” Effie suddenly groused, and heaved herself to her lumpy feet. “We need tea and lamingtons.” And off she went, her heart filled with worry that not even her precious lamingtons could suppress.

* * *

Parker was used to working in darkness, so making her way to Eliot’s tree stump was something she did with ease. A possum was snurfling around the base looking for bugs, but Parker shooed the animal away and slumped down on the worn surface with a loud, fretful sigh. The possum grumbled tetchily and slouched off to resume its foraging among a clump of acacias, but Parker ignored it.

She tried taking deep breaths to settle her stomach, but it didn’t work, and she just became dizzy. Next she curled her legs up and rested her head on her knees, her arms tight around her legs, and rocked gently. She had often done this as a child and teenager, when the world became too much for her to handle and she had no-one to turn to. Even Archie Leach’s guidance hadn’t helped, because she knew he was only interested in making her into a master thief. His acceptance of her as family later in her life had settled her insecurities a little, but only her team had become the family she had secretly craved. And now she had the people of Wapanjara who accepted her for who and what she was with such ease that the fact of it still took her breath away.

So with all of her heart Parker didn’t want Gertie and her baby to die. Gertie protected her family, and loved them dearly. And a baby camel, Parker knew, would be _spectacular_.

With a noisy sigh she uncurled her slender frame and sat up as straight as she could, and leaned back so that she could see the depths of the sky through the branches above her, stars twinkling endlessly in the blue-black night.

“Phooey!” she said with a finality that Eliot would have recognised as Parker’s ‘to-hell-with-it!’ tone. Standing up, she poised tall and proud, and thought for a moment before continuing. “Santa!” she called quietly in the darkness, “you can’t let Gertie die! Or … or lose her baby! It’s not _fair!_ You know that! And it would kill Eliot … maybe not so he’d _die_, really, but … but he’d die _inside_, and I can’t allow that!” She took a deep, steadying breath. “It would kill _all_ of us inside … and … and … it’s frikkin’ _Christmas!_” she finished, her chin jutting just a little in defiance. Hugging herself for a moment, she steadied her lithe frame, hoped that Santa had heard her plea, and stalked back along the track to the warmth of the homestead.

* * *

Lizzie and Kip sat on the old bench outside the foaling box and listened to the terrible groans of pain which turned to hitching squeaks, always in answer to Eliot’s gentle words of care and love even as he helped Charlie in his task of trying to ease the calf’s hind legs over Gertie’s pelvic bone.

The two children huddled together on the old bench, quiet and tense. Lizzie had dragged an old, heavy horse blanket over the pair of them in an effort to quell their nerves rather than to keep warm, but she clutched Kip’s hand tightly as Charlie let out a soft curse, Eliot’s soft murmur of support cutting into Gertie’s grunt of pain.

Lizzie bit her lip, eyes wide with fear.

“It … it’s going to be alright, isn’t it Kip? Gertie and the babbie … they’re going to be okay, aren’t they?” she whispered.

Kip did his best to ease Lizzie’s worries, but his frown lines, so like his father’s, drew deeper between his brows.

“My dad … my dad, he’s really good at this, Lizzie, I promise,” he replied as confidently as he could, and he patted Lizzie’s arm. “He’s the _best_.”

Lizzie knew all they could do was wait, but just as she tucked the warm blanket tighter around them, there came a small exclamation of satisfaction and Gertie let out a keening groan.

“_You beaut!!_” Charlie exclaimed, and the children heard a slithering sound followed by a triumphant “_Dammit_, Charlie! You did it!” from an immensely relieved Eliot Spencer.

The children instantly threw off the blanket and ran to the door, both of them talking at once.

“Is the babbie here??”

“Dad! DAD! Is it alright??”

“Eliot, is Gertie okay??”

They were on the point of sliding the door open when Eliot’s voice brought them up short.

“Awww hell, _no!!_” he growled, and there was a thrashing noise as Gertie did her best to get up onto her chest, the huge camel squeaking and gurgling, and the children saw her massive head appear as they tried to peer through the bars of the box.

She suddenly heaved herself to her feet and instantly turned around, making a noise no-one had heard her emit before … a series of soft, mumbling murmurs, and her head dropped down to investigate something on the floor of the box.

Eliot’s voice came again, this time urgent and on the edge of uncharacteristic panic.

“It ain’t breathin’, Charlie!!” he said, and the children gasped, horrified at the idea of the baby dying before it even had a chance to take a breath.

“No bloody way!!” Charlie retorted, “not if I can ruddy well help it!!” There came a rustle of straw, and then it seemed as though Charlie had dropped to his knees. “Breathe, you little bugger!” he hissed. “_Breathe!!_” And as he gave curt instructions to Eliot, the children retreated once more to their vigil on the bench.

“It can’t die, Kip!” Lizzie whispered brokenly. “It _can’t!!_ Gertie can’t lose her babbie!! _It’s not fair_, Kip!! And it’s _Christmas!!_”

So Kip put his arm around Lizzie’s shoulders to comfort her, and both of them waited with their hearts in their mouths to see if Gertie’s baby would live.

* * *

Nate watched as Parker stumped up the veranda steps, her hands jammed in her pockets and looking uncannily like Eliot when he was frustrated beyond belief. He checked his watch. It was past midnight, but he didn’t feel much like wishing his family a happy Christmas.

“You okay, Parker?” he said, although he knew she wasn’t, but he had to ask.

Parker let out a grunt, but said nothing as she flung herself in a chair. She stared at the radio lying on the table. The thing was stubbornly silent.

“There must be something wrong, Jo. It surely shouldn’t take this long.” Sophie clasped her hands together nervously. “I mean … how long does it take for a camel to give birth?”

Jo shrugged and tried to be as positive as she could, but even her normally upbeat persona was beginning to take a hit.

“Charlie and Eliot haven’t called for help, Sophie, so … they know what they’re doing.” She let out a noisy sigh. “All we can do is wait.”

“But the children!” Sophie insisted, “they shouldn’t be seeing this if … y’know … Gertie or the baby …” she tailed off, unwilling to say what everyone feared.

“We don’t hide things from Lizzie, Soph, you know that. And she’s seen things most kids wouldn’t see in a lifetime. She saw Eliot kill a man, remember,” Nate replied despite the ache in his chest from worrying about both Lizzie and Gertie. He knew how much the huge camel meant to his daughter, and, he had to admit, he was very fond of the animal even if she smelled awful.

Sophie chewed her lower lip and nodded. Eliot had killed Derry Ryan when he had threatened to murder his family, and Lizzie had seen him shove the big knife into Ryan’s throat. Eliot had been horrified, but Lizzie, frightened and shocked as she was, hugged Eliot and told him she loved him and the two of them had worked through the aftermath. For Lizzie, Eliot’s actions had saved her life, and she understood why he had done it. It had made her love her guardian and Good Wolf even more.

“But it’s taking so long –“ Sophie reiterated, but this time Nate had to smile.

“And this coming from a woman who had a baby in about forty minutes flat, in Lucille during a thunderstorm.” His eyes widened for a second or two as he remembered that day. It still gave him palpitations just thinking about it.

The radio crackled loudly.

Hardison was upon the thing before anyone else could move.

“Yeah??” he croaked, his voice failing him for a second. He placed the radio back on the table so everyone could hear. “Is – “

“Babbie’s here, alive and kicking!!” came Charlie’s voice, rich with pleasure and not a little relief.

“WOO-HOO!!” Parker yelled and waggled arms and legs like an upturned tortoise in her big, over-stuffed chair.

“What have we got?” Soapy asked eagerly, and leaned forward for the answer. Eliot’s voice rumbled in the background, and everyone could hear the laughter and delight in the children’s voices.

“Um … hang on a sec …” Charlie was apparently listening to Eliot, whose voice was just a little too soft for everyone to hear what he was saying. “ … Eliot says you have to wait until the morning so he can introduce the little ‘un to you properly,” he added, somewhat amused. “Gertie’s fine and so’s the babbie, so no worries, okay?”

“But –“ Sophie began, but Eliot’s voice came from the radio, gruff and gentle, as it always was when dealing with children and animals.

“No ‘buts’, Soph. Gertie had a bit of a rough time, an’ she an’ the calf need some time to themselves. Lizzie an’ me’ll be back in a bit. We just have to check the baby’s sucklin’ and its guts’re workin’.” The Oklahoma in his voice made everyone smile. It was always at its strongest when Eliot was emotionally charged. “Charlie an’ Kip’re headin’ home an’ they’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Righto boy, as long as everything has worked out well,” Jo said, “and I think I’m off to bed.” She looked at the faces of the people around her. “I think we should all get some sleep. Then we can visit Gertie in the morning. How does that sound?”

“Give Gertie and babbie a kiss from me!” Mei called softly, her son sound asleep in her arms.

Everyone heard a soft, happy squeak and Eliot’s equally happy “_Dammit_, Gertie!” as he fended of the big camel’s affection. But there was a new sound … a light, high-pitched burble, and Gertie gave out the strange murmur she had uttered when the calf was born.

Parker, eyes alight with pleasure, chuckled.

“The baby’s blowing raspberries!” she said, and hugged herself. “And it’s _Christmas!_”

Hardison straightened and grinned.

“Yeah … yeah, it is. A Christmas baby!” He looked as though someone had handed him the newest, most secret piece of technology Homeland Security was denying they had.

“Righto, you bludgers! Let’s call it a night! The Yank and the nipper’ll tell us all about it in the morning, and I’ve got a busy day ahead, so don’t you give me any bloody aggro, you hear me?” Effie grumped as she heaved her rotund frame to its lumpy feet.

Hardison leaned over and squished Effie into a clumsy hug, and while the little cook tried to fight him off, her heart wasn’t in it. She grumbled softly and put up with Hardison giving her a kiss on her cheek.

“We got a new baby, Eff!” he whispered, and the boyish glee in his eyes made Effie McPhee very happy indeed.

“Well, sunbeam, so we do.” She patted his cheek. “Go on, now. I need my beauty sleep, laddie, so off to bed with the lot of you!”

Hardison’s grin lit up his handsome face.

“It’s Christmas, Eff! _Christmas_. An’ it’s gonna be _awesome!_”

As everyone stretched and yawned and headed to their beds, Parker hesitated for a moment. Standing up she peered out into the night, listening to the silence and watching a shooting star trail into the distant hills. The glow of the tree on the veranda was warm and welcoming, and the jewels glittered, setting the shadows aflame with light.

Parker huffed a deep breath.

“Thanks, Santa. See? I knew you could do it.”

She tripped lightly down the veranda steps, headed across the yard and clambered up Bernadette’s formidable chassis to her tent on the roof. Changing into her sleepwear, she snuggled down into her comforter, pulled Bunny and Delbert to her chest, and slid into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

It was the magpies fluting in the almond stand which roused Parker from her slumber. She lay still for long minutes, Bunny tucked under one arm and Delbert snuggled against her side, and listened to the noises of the outback as it slowly roused to another dawn, the light creeping over the horizon and sending soft shadows flickering over the entrance to the little rooftop tent.

It was nice, just lying quietly in the tent, she thought. It was different from her warehouse. While she enjoyed being surrounded by her things in her huge space with the few objects she kept as memories of a difficult life, here at Wapanjara … somehow, it was _different_. She had brought Bunny as her only link with her past, but now … she had a family and a future.

_And it was Christmas Day_.

“Yes!” she hummed, and flung back her comforter. Wriggling into her clothes, she tumbled out of her tent, dropped off Bernadette’s roof and landed on the red earth of the homestead yard.

She padded happily across to the veranda steps, taking her time, and was met by Buster, the little dog stretching and yawning as he wagged his tail, pleased to see her. She crouched down and scratched his fuzzy head. Buster closed his eyes and his right back leg began to vibrate. That made Parker chuckle.

“Happy Christmas, you noisy little beast,” she whispered, and Buster sat down as his back leg finally weakened and gave way. It continued to vibrate as Buster collapsed on his side in ecstasy, the back leg beginning to waggle. He groaned with delight.

“Lizzie’s not in her room,” Nate said, and Parker, uncharacteristically startled, looked up to see him standing on the veranda in pyjamas and dressing gown, scratching his head. He still looked half asleep.

“She’ll still be with Gertie and the baby,” Parker said with certainty. “Eliot’ll look out for her.”

Nate thought about it.

“S’pose.” He turned around, shuffled into the house, and returned moments later. “Eliot’s not in his room either. We should go see if they’re alright, I guess.”

Parker thought he didn’t look worried in the least.

Nate slumped down on one of the comfortable old chairs and yawned. His dark hair was sticking up in tufts. He made no move to go and look for his errant daughter.

“What time is it?” Sophie said as she wandered out of the house and onto the veranda into the ethereal light of a dawning day. “God, I need tea!”

“Well sit yer arse down then, Duchess!” Effie said as she stumped outside with her huge old teapot, steam curling from the spout and sending the scent of tea with a hint of bergamot wafting through the air. “Tea!” she added, somewhat superfluously.

Hardison trailed behind her, hands full of cups and plates. He wore his sleeping sweats and he looked like a startled wombat. Obviously waking up at this unearthly hour didn’t suit him.

Nate looked at his watch. It was just after five am.

“Blech!” he said, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, trying to clear the sleep out of them as Sophie settled down in the chair next to him, elegant as always in her silk pyjamas and nightgown. She blinked several times, and stifled a yawn.

“Lizzie’s gone,” she said, not in the least worried.

“She’s still with that bloody great camel and her babbie,” Effie grumbled. “Her and the Yank. Never came back to the house. Silly bastards,” she added with growly affection.

“Ah,” Sophie muttered, and then poked Nate in the ribs. “Tea.”

Hardison wordlessly set plates on the veranda table and cricked his neck. There was the soft wail of a sleepy baby from the house, and he held up a finger.

“Be right back,” he said, and went back into the house, only to reappear a minute later with Rose in his arms, the child feeling unsettled but happy to be comforted by Hardison’s safe warmth. She nuzzled against his chest and slid immediately back into sleep. “That’s my sweetheart,” the hacker murmured, and kissed the top of her head. “Are we gonna go see Gertie?”

“Oh yes!” Parker replied and sat up as well as she could in the overstuffed chair. “Now?”

“Not yet, missy!” Effie snapped, and pointed at the plate of shortbread she had placed on the table. “Tea and a bikkie before you go, and I have a flask and some grub to make up for the Yank and the nipper. Eat up, and I’ll be back in a mo’!”

Within ten minutes, tea was drunk and shortbread eaten, and once Rose had been settled back in her bed, the team, still in their sleepwear and now joined by Soapy and Jo, headed towards the barn. They carried a large flask containing hot coffee and a bag with juicy bacon and sausages stuffed into freshly-baked rolls, accompanied by juice for Lizzie and some shortbread. There was also a bag of apples for the new mother.

And not one of them noticed the strange tracks in the dirt of the yard.

* * *

When everyone peered through the metal grilles of the foaling box, it was Hardison who spoke – very softly – first.

“Well, will ya look at that!” he quipped and began to take pictures on his cell phone.

“Should we wake them?” Sophie asked Jo, who smiled, amused at the scene before them.

Lizzie was stretched out on top of a couple of big bales of soft straw, head on a pile of towels and covered with an old horse blanket. She was sound asleep. Her mouth was slightly open, and drool shone at the corner of her mouth.

Her right arm was hanging over the edge of the bale, and under her hand was Gertie’s head, the huge camel sitting comfortably in the straw next to Eliot, who was sprawled in the deep bedding with Gertie’s sleepy head on his outstretched legs. His head lolled back on a bale, and it was obvious he was out like a light. He snored softly, something he would deny until his dying day.

But tucked into Gertie’s side was a small, slumbering shape, difficult to make out in the half-light of the morning.

Parker squeaked in sheer excitement.

And suddenly, as though on cue, a tiny head on an impossibly long neck unfurled from the shape and swung upwards to look at the source of the squeak.

“Oh my goodness!” Sophie whispered, and the bony little head stared at her with huge dark eyes and through enviably long eyelashes.

The calf was as black as night. Jet black, apart from a curious little tuft of white hair halfway down its neck on the left side. The mark was about the size of a thumbprint and lying just above the jugular vein. The baby let out a tiny _meep_, and struggled to its feet on gangly long legs, still unsteady but managing to wander over to the people gazing at it through the grilles. There was a collective sigh of wonderment, and Gertie blinked awake.

She lifted her head to see what her child was doing and let out the curious murmur that had so entranced Lizzie.

In turn Eliot, missing the weight of Gertie’s enormous head on his legs, awoke with a jerk.

“Wha -??” he grunted, and ran a hand over his face, doing his best to wipe away the torpor he felt in his body. “Um … hey,” he said as he noticed the faces peering in through the bars.

He stood up as Gertie got to her feet, and both of them wandered over to where the calf was busy trying to see through the grilles at the strange beings outside. Gertie mumbled at the calf, but didn’t appear to be alarmed at the attention of these people she knew and loved.

Eliot stretched and then carded his fingers through his tousled and straw-laced hair. He looked weary, stiff and thoroughly pleased with both Gertie and her baby. He dropped a hand on the calf’s non-existent hump and scratched gently.

“How’d you like my girl?” he asked.

“We got a girl-baby?” Hardison asked, his face wreathed in smiles. “She got a name?” he continued, and carried on taking snaps with his ‘phone.

“She’s beautiful!” Parker said, and reached out as the calf investigated fingers lacing through the grilles. She felt tiny, velvet-soft lips suck her fingers. She giggled. “I think she’s hungry!”

“She’s suckling okay and Gertie’s doin’ good.” Eliot’s soft smile couldn’t quite hide the lines of worry. “The baby came the wrong way. Charlie managed to fix her though, but she wasn’t breathin’ when she was born.”

“Charlie made her breathe again!” Lizzie said, and everyone looked at the little girl who was now awake, although she was obviously still tired as she knuckled sleep from her eyes. Sitting up, she threw off the blanket and swung her legs off the bale so she could stand up. “Charlie’s _awesome!_”

“Well, I don’t like to brag, but …”

Everyone turned to see Charlie and Kip wander through the barn door, Charlie carrying a bucket of feed followed by Kip with his arms around a couple of slices of a hay bale.

The little boy dashed forward and Soapy helped him slide open the door to the foaling box.

Gertie’s ears pricked as Kip dumped the hay in a corner and shook out the compacted fodder. She swung around and began to pull out mouthfuls of the sweet feed, but the calf was still mesmerised by her new admirers, and let out a little squeak of pleasure as Nate reached out to scratch her neck. Her eyes bugged and her head began to bob, and she nibbled at Nate’s dressing gown sleeve.

“She’s a sweetheart,” he said before he could stop himself. Nate had always thought he was impervious to such smarmy nonsense, but here he was, with a warm-and-fuzzy feeling deep, deep in his chest, as a baby camel gummed at his arm.

Jo eased forward and offered Eliot the flask and hot food.

“Here. Effie sent this. You two must be hungry, hey?”

Lizzie darted forward before Eliot could take the bag, and peered inside.

“Sausage butties!” she exclaimed, and beamed at Jo. “Thanks, Grandma!”

Charlie came alongside Gertie and placed the bucket full of the dromedary’s favourite mash beside her, and while she chomped her way through the food, he checked her over as Kip settled down beside Lizzie. Both children tucked into Effie’s delicious rolls, and Lizzie handed one to Eliot.

“She’s looking pretty bonzer considering what she went through,” Charlie murmured, running an expert hand over Gertie’s hide. “The silly bint decided to have her calf arse-first, and all we could see was a tail.”

Lizzie swallowed a mouthful of sausage and waved the rest of the buttie in the air as she gesticulated madly.

“And when she was born, Charlie had to give her artificial rumination!” she said.

“_Respiration_, ‘Lizbeth Grace,” Eliot corrected gently.

“Artificial respiration!” Lizzie continued, not in the least fazed by Eliot’s comment.

“So … I ask again, what’s she called?” Hardison prompted as the calf investigated his cell ‘phone.

“Well – “ Eliot began, but Kip and Lizzie were ahead of him.

“She was born at Wapanjara, so her name will _begin_ with Wapanjara – “ Lizzie began with authority.

“Like Sparky! She’s got to have a posh name, right, Grandpa Soapy?” Kip interjected as he poked an errant sausage back into his half-eaten roll. Sparky’s full registered name was Wapanjara Night Spark.

“If that’s what Eliot wants, young man,” Soapy said, nodding sagely.

“And … and she was born at midnight, wasn’t she, Charlie?” Lizzie declared.

“She was indeed,” Charlie agreed as Gertie finished her feed and carefully shifted around to see if there was any more food available. She spotted the bag in Eliot’s non-buttie-holding hand, and she _gurked_ happily. She could smell apples.

Eliot sat down on a free bale and dumped the bag of apples on the straw beside him. Gertie wiffled the bag expectantly.

“Hey!” Eliot rumbled as he tried to eat his food, but Gertie was apparently starving. Having a baby was hard work, she decided. Eliot dug out an apple and she inhaled it as quickly as she could before Eliot could snatch it back. Munching cheerfully, she burped apple and beet smell over Eliot, who flinched at the aroma.

“Soooo … Lizzie continued, “Kip and me … we decided the baby was shiny and beautiful, like Parker’s jewels – “

Well, that made sense, Parker thought. The calf was a rich, stunning black and her soft curls were gleaming in the soft light.

“So we called her Gem!” Lizzie declared.

“Wapanjara Midnight Gem!” Kip explained, and the two children looked thoroughly pleased with themselves.

Eliot finished his buttie and grunted.

“I didn’t have any say in the matter,” he complained, but he didn’t look too put out by the idea. “That’s one helluva name for a little camel.”

“We just call her Gem,” Kip said with a finality that brooked no criticism.

“Gem it is,” Eliot agreed, and he rested his head back on the wall and smiled that slow, sweet smile that meant he was truly happy, showing the rarely-seen dimples that gave his friends a glimpse of a young Eliot before the world took him in hand and left the scars on his body and soul.

“Hey, Gem-girl,” Hardison rubbed Gem’s ears which made the little camel shudder with pleasure, “now just remember – if grumpy ol’ Grandpa Eliot gets too bossy or makes life tough for ya, you jus’ come to Uncle Alec and I’ll -“

The snarled “_Dammit, Hardison!!_” delighted everyone within earshot.

Gem sniffed at Parker as she crouched down in the doorway, and her little pink tongue crept out and gave the entranced thief a camel-kiss.

Parker let out a delighted laugh, and stroked Gem’s glossy black hide.

“Well, little Gem, welcome to Wapanjara,” she whispered as she leaned forward and returned Gem’s kiss on top of the calf’s curly head. “And it’s _Christmas!!_”

To be continued …


End file.
